There were pink and yellow flowers
\nIn the hedgerows as we passed by;
\nAfter cycling for many hours
\nWe were hot from the sun up high.<\/p>\n
The plums we bought in the village
\nTasted sweet as we rode along,
\nTransferred to a time and age
\nThat vibrated a summer song.<\/p>\n
We had stopped to pick blackberries
\nFrom the hedgerows along the lane
\nWhile below, we saw the ferries
\nArriving and leaving again.<\/p>\n
There were beech and oak and cob trees,
\nElderberry, Rose hips and vines,
\nWith nectar for the honey bees
\nCouched in the golden dandelions.<\/p>\n
The wheels in the ruts were jumping;
\nI could hear as a thing apart
\nThe regular even pumping
\nOf a sixty six year old heart.<\/p>\n
To forget! How could we ever?
\nFor as long as our two hearts bide,
\nThe day we went out together
\nOn that glorious cycle ride.<\/p>\n
September 1991<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
There were pink and yellow flowers In the hedgerows as we passed by; After cycling for many hours We were hot from the sun up high. The plums we bought in the village Tasted sweet as we rode along, Transferred … Continue reading