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Passion In
The Hayloft
Sipping Iron Goddess
Brought back the dream,
Or was it a dream,
Could a dream be a mystic
Cover for a visit
That you’re only able
To remember parts of,
She swore she wasn’t versed
In the manner of Tantra,
That passion was her fashion,
Yet the music of her mantra
In the hayloft in the moonlight
As she rationed magic
Slowly, slowly, slowly,
Had every cell chanting
More, more, more.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
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