The Orchard on Putney Hill Road

The road home from school passed by an orchard;
A fence protected the harvest from our thieving hands;
But there were several old apple trees that reached over the fence and hung their wares for our taking;
It was a long ride home; all uphill;
Too hard a ride to be weighted down with heavy overgrown apples in our hands —
So we stopped and ate some on the spot,
My brother and I;
A fond memory.

Be well,

Monty

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