Thin white-gloved fingers reach up to touch the blue sky, hoping to catch hold of a wet cloud if one passes by. The bare branches of the sycamore - lonely without their leaves - rest and wait for the days to grow long.
reach up to touch the blue sky,
hoping to catch hold of a wet cloud
if one passes by.
The bare branches of the sycamore -
lonely
without their leaves - rest and wait
for the days to grow long.
© 2001-2017 Judi Moreillon