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"turpeny" poems
Our affections are resinous By the grindstone, made Confections. Our patience tasteful impressions By words, sweet turpeny made Ever-growing since. Our laughter like camphor Sowed by thyme, made Love, after. Your love is unwashed Grown and ground, made to steep Cherry beans, grown in their burgundy glove.
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Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 7:51 PM UTC
Made to Steep