Sunday, 20 July 2014

fallen oranges


brown paper bags
stacked
leaning tower style
ready 
for
berries
straw, blue and logan
out front
bursting punnets stain
ripe scent rising
to entice.

storeroom racks
fusty and mildewed
hold  last years onions
and finger sprouting potatoes
ready to go on special
the mice depart for dark corners
darting eyes watching 
for fallen spoils

the saturday girl
 in the red checked apron
polishes and re-arranges 
dreaming of tonight's dance
juggling the possibilities
of this over that
when the shop door slams
the oranges scatter and bounce
to the four corners.

KD 20/7/14

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7 comments:

  1. Quite appealing;well written

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  2. Ah! you make me wanna plunge into berries and have some citrus fruit... a yummy poem!!

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  3. I like this- especially the last verse!

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  4. Is it the grocer shop Margaret Thatcher grew up in ??

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  5. Delightful! I love the fusty racks and the Saturday girl.

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  6. I like this. I could smell the mustiness that usually accompanies those old, back-road country stores. I even heard the crinkle of the paper bags and the thudding of the oranges as they scuttled into the corners.

    ~Jen

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