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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1519177
a poem about childhood
Honeysuckle

I rip at blossoms.
Shredded petals fall
To hot grass,
Tongue flicks
Pistils. Soiled dress
Brushes against
Scabbed knees. I fight
Away mosquitoes
For one tiny drop-
A small taste
Wetting pink lips.
© Copyright 2009 Elizabeth Kidd (azureseay at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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