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Click hereThe heated days pass as wretched snails,
slithering at a languid pace not fit for lovers.
Come forward June,
find me in your bosom.
Tiresome is this halting wait for
my love
to be
in my
embrace.
Our days will be spent entwined
as thirsty vines bearing grapes,
seeking the quenching lick of
tongue on moist fruit,
dripping to sate the wellspring harvest
brought with August moon.