key
This apple tree has always had rich fruits
I still remember my grandfather with an apple in hand
I open with the key of imagination
a gate to the garden of dreams
this smell and taste of childhood
I felt and fondly remember
this apple tree no longer gives birth
I found the key to my garden
a new world I will open
Poetry by Anna Banasiak
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Written on 2022-10-27 at 11:47
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