The Orchard Part 2
Forget the oranges and lemons too,
The ones we nurtured in those orchards
We knew as children, giddy with citrus perfume
Ripe with life.
Our orchards past have withered to dust
Under the night shell and inhumanity of war They shall not grow old,
No time for fruit.
But now we grow apple and pear
A small plot of land and for which we care
With the tenderness of the orchards of yesterday
Because the apples are now our oranges.
And they taste like home.
