The boy in the red apron

Flying above the rain

where the

sun always seems to shine

then down

to the glorious fields

spread out like green cotton sheets

across the land.

Hay bales rolled ,
ready
and sitting in an orderly line.

How I love this place
where the cry of the gulls
is never ending

the smell of salt in my hair
and sandy toes
are a daily given.

To escape from the harsh realities
of life
away from the worry
is nice.

Needed.

Yesterday to the place
where the boy in the red apron
smiled at me
his youthful face
full of good manners
and loveliness.

He spoke with ( what I imagined )
to be the accent of a boy
who had gone to Harrow School
his words dripping like honey
onto my plate.

How I loved that moment
the peace
quiet
and

everything
I worry about
seemed

far

far

away