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N P Bradley
Poems
Feb 2012
The Plum Tree
Her hand reached out to clasp
The young branch, running along
Its woody stem. Thicker, wider,
Ever-growing shoots
Sustaining seed.
Rebirth.
She cupped the firm-soft fruit -
It quivered – tugging harder
For sustenance. Breathless. Panting
For her reward
Of sweet-fresh fruit.
Ecstasy.
Written by
N P Bradley
37/M/United Kingdom
(37/M/United Kingdom)
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