The rosen mush of tomato innards
Rushed down from her pursed lips
And bloated cheek pockets,
Both working to keep the rest in.
Deep laughter that infected upward
Until her freshly filled mouth
Was distracted enough to oblige.
When we steal away in summer
To find a field full of ripe and ready
Plunder that we consume, always delighted.
With the joys of Earth's providing heath
And a heart warmer than the rays that
Cast brazen glares into our young eyes;
The sweetest things I ever hope to know.
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