The orchards are calling to me,

I hear them whilst I sleep,

Dreaming of apples,

And secrets to keep,

In my dreams I am transported,

Back to that crazy year,

Upon my pillow when I wake,

A solitary tear,

Now I hear them softly,

Calling me to go home,

Where I can be free once more,

To meander and roam,

The smell of dew on the grass,

On a clear September morn,

The aroma of hops,

Or ripening Corn,

My heart was badly broken,

On that spring day,

They tore down my home,

In the cruellest way,

Now apples call me once more,


Back to a simpler time,

As the fire crackles,

And I am lost in rhyme,

Dreaming once more of tractors,

Of bonfires in the night,

Back to that year 2002

When everything was just right


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