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Click hereToday I went on a walk in the woods
along a path by the river.
Crisp white flowers greeted me
hinting about all the wonderful things to come,
cobblers, and pies,
bowls piled high,
purple stained fingers,
and warm sweet bursts in the mouth.
They talk about good things,
five little leaves
and a downy perky center
that reminds me of the soft texture of her hair.
They tell me abundance is coming
and that this summer will be filled with as much sweetness
as my eager hands can hold.
She writes me
these little letters,
sends me
pretty notes,
texted into my phone.
She hints about
sticky sweet.
How she’ll fill my bowl
with enough dark sugar
that I’ll have to use both hands
to hold it all.
Every little flower whispers her name,
and all I can think about is blackberries
and everything I have to look forward to.
A layer of sweet sentimentality over a taste of some subtle flavoring of erotic metaphor. Quite a recipe you have here.