Secret Apples
Deep crimson, swollen with juice
fruitfulness bends the bough.
Ripened by summer’s rays
skin shining in warm showers.
You hang in glorious maturity
tantalisingly out of reach
safe from the harvester
stirring desire more than any other.
Your serenity is a gift
suspended above mayhem
on the furious bend of a motorway slip road.
Wonderful, as always xx 😎
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Thanks Phil xxx
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Reblogged this on Darren Hobson Poet.
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