Summer fruit hangs heavy on the bows
Each piece, a perfect sphere -
A masterpiece of pink and gold
Like young lover's flushed cheeks -
Bedecked with softest velvet
And warm from the long day's sun
YOU ARE READING
T e l e s c o p i c | COMPLETED
PoetryWhat is it I see Through these wavering glass spheres? Foreign tongues written far off in the heavens, Feelings incarnate, Scrawled across the bottomless sky For the seraphs and me alone to read. ~~~~~~~~~~ HIGHEST RANK: #257 (8/28/16) Vote if you e...
