Along narrow roads we drove
And came across a perfect place
That fitted the car from head to toe
By a field with waves of wheat
Behind a low stone wall.
Wound down windows and doors ajar
Seeped in sweet smells of earthen growth,
Whispering wind, sky of puff,
Thistles, stalks and ridges rough
Next to the low stone wall.
Crackling packages we unwrapped
And quickly ate our breads and cheeses
Carefully selected from the local store.
When temptation beckoned we stepped
Over the low stone wall.
Golden grain we slowly waded
Deep pathways left behind as trails
Prickly little ears tickling our fingers
Surfing our palms across the field
Leaving behind the low stone wall.