don’t we all want the joy we’ve gathered to mature like wine apples of friendship our family of melons some lemony characters a tart cherry or two aged happiness has a flavor younger vintages lack
if I lived by cancer’s warnings, my face would never feel like warm butter my cold arms wouldn’t goose bump with the mix of heat and tingle bare legs would never walk through a field and melt in f
for some reason sitting in this morning’s sun reminded me of the Jersey Shore my skin felt the same crackle of heat that came when laying on a towel, listening to waves, the cackle of children I r
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