A Picture in the Attic

I’ve a picture In my mind of an ancient room
There’s a streak of red dawn through the iron window panes.
I sit among the peas and string beans wanting apples.

Oh for a red and yellow apple!
Sweet, running with sap, running barefoot.
I am not a gentle lady I am proud to say it.

It could have been a morning peach amid the mourning doves.
It could have been a warming bowl with cool milk and hot oats.
It could have been the midday sunny harvest dust (and him).

I’s green now, green with peas and roasting chickens,
I have a picture though. In the attic of my mind

(I'm experimenting.......)