Poem Book

country place

fumes of cigs
the tingle of sweet tea
a lazy humid breeze
dances through the trees
the only question is
what music's gonna be at the gig?
when hay and fairydust hit your lips
the taste of the fieldside hits
beer and lemonade
their bitter golden flavors fade
blending into the the canvas
of this little country place
and you can get acquainted
to strangers by a look at their face
in this little country place