Apple Blossoms and Clementines,
Lemonade, no spirits,
Secret looks and cryptic mimes,
A rash of stories with no limits.
Hidden clues that claw and bleed,
Peering eyes, they mock,
Exiled cradle and empty seed,
An unused knitted baby sock.
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helen midgley 
Very powerful and poignant, love it.
Thank you 🙂
The last stanza is rather tragic. The joy of children taken away. Perhaps waiting, perhaps waited—ah, may the cradle filled. There is so much love bristling from a knitted baby’s sock. So much care. — This poems got me all messed up. Blessings.
Thank you, I was hoping it would evoke that sort of emotion, not that I’m bad you understand, lol 🙂
haha well you succeeded!
Oh, I do like that, cryptic though it is. Reminded me of Hemmingway’s 6-word novel – was it, ‘For Sale, Baby Shoes, Never Worn’?
Thank you, and yes I was thinking of Hemmingway when I wrote it 🙂