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Wednesday, 8 February 2012

Apricot (the t is silent as in france)

I have loved
The crystal freshness
Of your after shower
Kiss

The walking wood
Of bluebells
Scenting in your hair

The merlot softened
Welcome
To your tryst

What need of life
Another spice
When you are there ?

Soft Apricot my cheek
Upon your curve
Of thigh.

Bring down
The curtain
And leave me lie.


JL Feb 8 13:09

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