Loose Lettuce Leaf Factory Tour
.
The busload waited for another to park,
not Gingin locals
but a global arc
.
of foreign accents, ages and looks,
my concentration torn
from my favorite book.
.
I grabbed my novel – another boring tour,
the sign caught my eye
promised so much more.
.
Avenues of squashed, boxed green,
piled high like trees
wait to be cleaned.
.
Whilst gentle fingered plastic hands
maneuvered each leaf
to remove the sand,
.
bits of mulch, a sleepy slug or two
its entrails smudged
was stuck like glue.
.
Full mouth askew with unbidden distaste,
my eyes clashed with
a gently smiling face.
.
Heart skipped to a stranger’s look
as he read the title
of my romance book.
.
Like turning loose leaves under
ice cool water sprays,
my heart was plundered
.
in a thousand ways…
.
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2009
Perth Words... exploring possibilities. 
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