Cranberry Leaves

Skipping lightly
through fog-filled air,
rose-petal scent,
lavendar sky,
holding hands,
just you
and I
touching,
touching,
cranberry leaves,
sweetly tart,
reddish fruit,
forbidden not,
where our love
took root.

Settling down
in grass filled glades,
mahogany leaves,
broadsword blades,
sofly,
softly,
touch our legs;
rose-petal scent,
lavender skies
dappled water,
shades of blue,
custard clouds,
golden sun,
my what days
I've spent with you.


W. James Beard, Jr.