surrounded in the francais
schoolboys like I, chase through stone corridors in jest
pass tank topped bread makers and
rum runners filling dark sacks
who was I to speak to the going-ons of this foreign land
take me instead to the countryside
in an hour less a half
share with me tales
let me sip wine
and pretend that I am a man
Earth To Ash 
Outstanding. Really beautiful shot
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you for popping by. Not my pic but I completely agree, beautiful.
LikeLike
Isn’t it funny what we consider to make us a man vs. a boy?
LikeLiked by 1 person
It is. There’s an island off the coast of the island where I live. The legal age of drinking is 16 years of age. This poem came to me yesterday as I was having a drink in the susnshine and thought how cool I was being able to drink in what was/is technically a part of France. Here’s a link for reference. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint_Pierre_and_Miquelon
LikeLiked by 1 person
How interesting.
Goldie: “Ash, what did you do this weekend?”
Ash: “Nothing much. Just went over to France for a quick beer.”
LikeLiked by 1 person
Lol, right? Hahah
LikeLiked by 1 person