I often wonder if  truth is delirious
ripe like summer ****.
I often think of  my friends as fruit
There's Jenny with peach complexion
and Ruby a beguiling plum
Maybe  one day my  lover will call me subtle
but what should I call her?
Perhaps I should call everyone  porcelain,
to jest too far, is to  personalize unthinking
merriment on the  blind side!