Steam shimmers.
I can smell,
tangy lemons,
ripe oranges,
in here.
The water,
seductive, beckons;
ripples, laps so gently,
against me.
I close my eyes,
dream of an orchard,
half forgotten.
A little girl,
with tangled curls.
Fruits tumble,
down her lap.
Juice trickles,
warm, sweet,
through grubby fingers.