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I Thought About Her I thought about her as the Second month of summer Unfolded hot and humid, Saw her in her tiny plot Poking, pressing, pulling, All of the things that only A mature woman could Do justice to in a garden, Neighbourhood boys peeking Nonchalantly over sunglasses, Watching for a revealing bit Of something that would Keep their late night Conversations sizzling Well past September, A bottle of wine or two Chilling, waiting for what She had planned for after. Stephen Nesbitt ©
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