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It's not about umbrella trees

I feel the August heat still
rising from the tarred city street
sitting hands on knees
under three umbrella trees
and the smell of olive oil
garlic and sweet basil looking for me
from the kitchen window
just behind.

Time nurtures the heart
in memory
and the ghosts I see
still watch over me
hands on knees
under the shade
of umbrella trees

Editing stage: 


Lovely to see you write a poem from your thoughts again they have been few and far between, Glad to see the words there they are like music, I love the umbrella tree in its perfect form then you go to Olive smell are these in one place, a memory perhaps but still the write is good, Yours Ian.T

There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..

"Time nurtures the heart
in memory"..


author comment

we had umbrella trees left and right of our front door I remember my mother pulling them off to give me and my brother a spanking for whatever reason ... your poem brought back many memories for me

lovely poem Joe, nice to see you here

love your Jayne xxxx

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” — W.B. Yeats

:) Yes, some of the best memories.

author comment

A lovely little somersault into the past,
but the perfumes and sights are never gone.
They colour our present mood when remembered,
and are those precious things that cannot be stolen
from our treasure box.

Love from Anni.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

Mi è venuta 'na malinconia,Anni.

author comment

Mi è venuta 'na malinconia,Anni.

author comment

such lovely poetry
I often wonder
are you ill really ???


It's strange, but as I feel at times so close to an end, and as I fail, the greater the need to go back into memory and seek consolation. Inhibitions gone. If only cou;d tell what it is like. But that is telling what I cannot share,

thank you. my friend

author comment
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