'This little town'

The site of the American revolution She seems lost in this civilization her Church steeples grazing the horizon her only fling at the modern fashion Niche between trees and small lawns Front porches arrayed in stripe awls quaint little houses with picket fences her nonchalant air, her only defense Small avenue aligned with poplar trees buzzing in the summer with honey bees flowers so carefully planted in tires and trellis are displayed Colors to welcome the human eye in these flowers hues are intensified Fall is by far her best feature she is elegant, with a certain allure She dons the rubies ambers and gold the trees are the jewels that she holds In winter she is dormant ruthless to her merchants the snow that shroud her in purity reminds me of the vestal virginity Beautiful under her white mantle cold as the snow that covers her steeple she is too quiet, and seems fast asleep yet the passion within her is deep. Spring will awake this victorian beauty trees budding their leaves appear to be ready to yield the passerby their aromatic scent April will drench her and showers will descent white blossoms will be her elegant array the fragrance will lure the youth to a fray Spring fever has arrived she is awaken getting herself ready for a short life span then the fall will display her incredible radiance to her citizen, her only love, her audience. Written October 17th, 2001 © on Oct 16 2001 06:09 PM PST   0 • 10