The Farmer and the Girl

The marginal thunder creates evening curtain
Landscape infinitely rolling painting Iris Moss
There is a house high on a hill
Wooden recluse brought tears
A pontification veiled the woman’s thoughts
Cortex of the medulla oblongata gave her weakness
The side’s steps leading to the kitchen were just as rickety
Are these the staircase to heaven heard about?
Once inside a familiarity painted her with comfort

The attic intrigued with wonderful smells of musty treasures
Collections of nostalgia flooded emotions
Feeling and touching with the same amour of lovers
Aged jars with yellowed labels, handsomely painted bees
Cobwebs scalloped window sills resembling Victorian lace
Just then splendor of nature caught her eye

There were honeycombs
Assumption sure was correct
Feeling melancholy when she was whisked away
There remained strong feelings within the cells

Evening curtain tucked away
Sunlight saturate each window
She had to ponder about the evening’s adventure
Came to a conclusion, awareness of bees
She was a farmer no doubt….oh she was a farmer