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Carol Smith
Poems
Apr 2017
Summer Fruits
Ripe to the touch, ready to be plucked.
Peeling off the layers.
Pink, moist and fresh.
Exposing the flesh.
Aromas fill your mind.
Gentle soft fingers caress the skin.
The pleasures begin.
Tasting the fleshy fruit in your mouth.
Juices running from your lips. Pay heed.
All that is left is the seed.
Written by
Carol Smith
Coventry
(Coventry)
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