deepundergroundpoetry.com

Come The Strawberry Harvest

 


It was right there on the tip of his tongue
kissing lemon with some little tart
a stone pathway, pushcart town
awaiting strawberry festival

juicy and succulent drips mix in pitcher
cool of ice lavished with suckle
so sweet She is dribbling my chin
this my friend, tis a wonderful lil town

local oxen trot with goods
waves from wares drawing interest
sky blue crockery, clay-fired cups
sown sights, given sounds from local artists

evening combs and lanterns glow
smiles produce glint with laughter
soft is this way for country-fried towns
where hands once again touch, respect, love

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crimsin summultima mysteriouslady DarkEnchantress DanielChristensen NewBeginnings Layla Summerrain75 solanaceae nomoth
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