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Your orchard

I viewed your garden
Your heavy boughs became
My burden
I breached walls
To reach your blossom
When no gate
Was left open
I feasted on the windfall
Of your ripe fruit ...fallen
On the sun scorched lawn
Of my trespass
I lay broken.
I was the boy with pockets
Bulging with stolen fruit
In an empty orchard.
Phlatonmeback
Written by Phlatonmeback (Phlat)
Published
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