The August heat came with love and chance
A melodic butterfly gasoir dance
And stolen kisses underneath that old tree
The sapling brought from Italy
The one which grew up with me.
Ah, this old, crooked, strange tree
My mother loved to tell this story
how it could live for thousands of years
but would only ever bear fruit once.
What a gift it would be, in this lifetime
How wonderful, if the universe, aligned
In chance, in beauty, in laughter.
And like a bumblebee to lavender
That Summer the fruit came and so did you, to me
Your mouth on my mouth under the Italian tree
Orange fruit, sweet, and we
Two love birds perched underneath.