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The thought of saying something that might cause unrest. Causes my heart to pound slightly against my chest. WARNING WARNING. The young man, More appealing than the older boy. The latter is readily available, Causing sickness to my stomach. My words fail to spill. And the pain dwells.
sweetness? sweetness i was only joking when i said...
im more your golden delicious type
sour until im ripe
i bruise less easy
my juices not such a peasy squeezy
famous for my beauty
like a home cooked pie
stick your melba and your schnapps
and your fuzzy furry lie
we all know that youth is wasted on the young
and its fleshes only last a moment on the tongue
peachie come here im going to squish ya
my apple trees growin in the garden
make love, make cider let the wood harden
cover them up in toffee wish ya would wish i could just kissya..pardon?
Lizzie
Tue 15th Nov 2011 12:27
Lots of sweetness from you RB :) xx
like my words fail to spill here, my dear in particular but thoughthful little thing x
peaches are soft and fuzzy and lovely to eat but
apples grow back at home
where youre from
in that sphere of real
and we should know better
than to think
the appeal of the peach will be enough for
us to eat and keep healthy.
blah blah, good poem, its all food for thought.
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Lizzie
Wed 23rd Nov 2011 10:34
These little poems really make me smile :) x