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Click hereI bought them
for a recipe
from Martha’s book of pies,
but we ate them
fresh
after the rain
rushed up the street
and washed away
the summer heat.
in those days they were rare
and of a voluptuary nature
not native to our northern
latitude
we sat close and mostly naked
on the dark verandah
and watched the rain black street
grow misty with the quiet hiss
of passing cars
you shivered in the darkness
cool
the goose bumps
covering your skin
but you were happy
that I cared enough
to share a fig
and loved me
in a whisper
even though
they were sweet
but rather tasteless.
I loved in this your use of simple but evocative language and images. I also liked the wistfulness implied in the ending. This is haunting.
Darkmaas... it's nice to hear you again. Made me think of New Orleans in December. Thank you.
i don't believe i've read you writing before.
this was a pleasant place to start.
very nice romantic piece!
xo, fawnie
the set up of this scene, background, fx, and the cast?great work. (Poor figs, they are so over-looked as a fruit, but they are tasty in jam on toast.)
One of the best of the day
Surely the best of the
erratic erotic
offering
A good read