Musings on Life, Love, and Linguine-Poetry & Writing
Should twilight paint your silhouette in shades of amber and rose Recollections of past memories in black repose As I plunge, the cold winds murmuring in despair
Come taste my gifts said Ceres for I have the horn of plenty to savor, Buttery gourds, ripe tomatoes, sweet golden ears of corn All grown from my fertile breast, a profusion of interesting flavors
Once youthful and fresh with vibrant petals scented Now dried and withered, fragile, faded, wrinkled, brittle.
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