Enchantment.
Summers of larks
bred sun-torn adventure
all round the nest
of my well-loved home
and scented
the dialect of childhood
in poemed roses.
Autumn-red juiced
my girlhood and etched
vermilion into breathless
times where young
fervour picked best buds
of experience
and dried their treasure.
Summers ago
perfumed homeliness
smelt of hearth\'s
welcome for child and
elder to cherish.