Peaches In December
Golden nectar dribbles down your clean-shaven face
While playful fuzz tickles your barren cheeks.
A sudden awareness of their nakedness
Makes you miss the overgrown bush land
That was your casual Bohemian beard.
Romanced by tart droplets of summers past,
You break into a fit of perfect reminiscence
And relish the juices
That flood your grateful mouth with memories
From a warmer time:
Dancing in the park fountain, fishing for pennies,
Picking ugly dandelion heads
That we turned into boutonnières,
And sleeping on porches
During the thunderstorms of summer nights.
Like everything that was ever good,
It becomes shadowed by gruesome finality
And the dark, sardonic pit mocks you
As a biting reminder of blackened hearts
Long gone like the August harvest.
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