In a honey-suckle covered yard
The summer of forty-eight
She taught him how to pluck pears.
This lonely, southern, lady
Living in an apartment above a store,
That bore her name.
He peeled her pears as instructed
Held in an aroma you could touch
She served them tea in her best china.
On the red-dirt road of his mind
He visits her sun-drenched kitchen
Sip’s tea and shares perfectly ripened pears.