Peach
Soft is the
Skin
Of the ripe peach,
So gently,
I will coarse
My
Innocent hands
Through
It's fine hair
Caressing
It's
Curving surface.
How
I wish for a bite.
Soft is the
Skin
Of the ripe peach.
Sweet it is
To savor.
In
My hand, I hold
It,
Waiting to
Treasure it's
Taste.
My tongue is teased.
How
I wish for a bite.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Added by Poetry Lover
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