Color of lemon, mango, peach, These storybook villas Still dream behind Shutters, thier balconies Fine as hand- Made lace, or a leaf-and-flower pen-sketch. Tilting with the winds, On arrowy stems, Pineapple-barked, A green crescent of palms Sends up its forked Firework of fronds. A quartz-clear dawn Inch by bright inch Gilds all our Avenue, And out of the blue drench Of Angels' Bay Rises the round red watermelon sun.
Added: 7 Sep 2001 | Last Read: 7 Jun 2025 11:28 PM | Viewed: 9873 times
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Sylvia Plath
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