Sorry this is late. I was drunk when I wrote it, so, uh, I decided to wait to post. XD
#9 - Orchard
In the sun-dappled grass
sweeping boughs hang
vaulted like the walls of a
cathedral, over the head of a
sleeping boy.
In his hand he clutches
an apple that is the colour
of the dark rouge lipstick worn
by his mother; its skin is a mask
of glamour.
His hat is tipped forth over
his rosy cheeks and
his lips are framed pouting, as
though they were made of
cocktails cherries.
This one afternoon
he will wait for the world
to pass him in sepia, instead
of simply trying his best to
escape it.
sweeping boughs hang
vaulted like the walls of a
cathedral, over the head of a
sleeping boy.
In his hand he clutches
an apple that is the colour
of the dark rouge lipstick worn
by his mother; its skin is a mask
of glamour.
His hat is tipped forth over
his rosy cheeks and
his lips are framed pouting, as
though they were made of
cocktails cherries.
This one afternoon
he will wait for the world
to pass him in sepia, instead
of simply trying his best to
escape it.
Words: 94.
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