The air was Elysian As clouds chased the breeze. Your hand was in mine As we slipped through the trees. In that cool, shaded orchard We picked apples and pears, Amid the fragrance of summer Was the scent of your hair. The touch of your fingers As they ran down my arm was gentle and easy Like the August day's calm And sinking to the ground Thoughts needing no say We lay there for hours 'Til the Sun slipped away.