mhall46184@aol.com
A Pastoral Scene (without firearms)
A fine wine’s not for us; we want cheap red
In paper cups beneath the apple trees
with cheese and bread upon the grasses spread
And you singing along each merry breeze
This fine day’s made for us; we want to kiss
Creation as we kiss each other’s lips
In celebration of sweet summer bliss
While soft away the dreamy twilight slips
Our fine moon’s rising, silvering the air -
She tells us we have kisses yet to share
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