Chicano Poet

Friday, January 10, 2014

Swagman

I stole a cherry
from the cherry tree
it was not ripe
and so were you
the taste of love
did not suffice
the rules were natural
as the wind
and treated hollow
from away
you could fathom
and you could tell
when the first fruit
froth of its own
I stole a cherry
from the cherry tree
it was not ripe
and so were you

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