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Late Winter
Dream
To the promise
Of nice nights,
A prelude of chocolate
Chip cookies and magical soup,
I slipped into this dream not
Knowing the sights,
The Iron Goddess had
Planned for,
A woman stepped out
Away from her tethers,
Shook out her hair
Slipped out of her clothes,
Stretched out on a bed
Of pancakes and berries,
Cherries, bananas, fruits
I don’t know,
Sprayed whipped cream down
The length of her body,
Said come, I’ve something
I want you to know.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
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