Festival Of Life Poem by W H Benjamin

The emerald lake where we crouched and watched
White butterflies streak by eager faces
Swinging from ropes tied to the great old tree
Splashed into a lake of expectations
Drying off under summer's kindest smile
Cupping Syrah grapes in our hands, jogging,
Stirring up ours and Papa's dusty dreams
Hope, carefully planted near growing feet
Eyes wide, watched birds fly, traced cloudless Béziers sky
Followed a half blind loved Labrador
Tongue lolling, brown eyes, turning back to wait
As we reached the place we should have been; Fête
Greeted the Mayor, skipped, round dancing people
To Mama, front row, clapping with the band
Watching Papa, expert, uncork the Syrah;
She said he made when we could barely walk.