The Italian Tree

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.

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