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Exquisitely
Erotic
There is something
Exquisitely erotic about
Sitting on the edge of spring,
After the laughter
Of the hot love of winter
Who’s echo refuses to fade,
The beckoning finger of spring
The scent of romance it
Promises to bring,
Girls giddy, boys prancing,
A wonderful woman checking
Her hair pursing her lips in the window.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
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