Jon Doe

Auburn - Poem by Jon Doe

Ah yes, the sweet note,
familiar smells of cider
In the coolest air of night

The taste of fermented lust
Caresses the damaged palate
And intoxicates the mind

In the background, plays music,
The kind, wished to be heard

Its crisp sinking in sound,
Reminiscent of the first taste

Where nature concealed
the season, in leafed droplets

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Poem Submitted: Friday, August 27, 2010

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