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Some say women of your age should be
untouched by May and numb to sensuality,
happy with the satisfactions of a life
as modest matron, grandma, wife.
But you, dear rebel, late to bloom
embrace me in this quiet room
and dare reach out to seize your right
to feel your body's deep delight
while I, stirred by your urgent quest,
kiss your lips, your neck, your breasts,
and clutch your sweet September fire
with all the blaze of May's desire.
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