Don’t be so glum, plum.
Don’t feel beaten.
You were made to be eaten.
But don’t you know deep within,
Beneath your juicy flesh and flimsy skin,
You bear a mystery,
You hold a key,
You have the making of a whole new tree.
The sky is open all the way. Workers upright on the line like spokes. I know there is a river somewhere, lit, fragrant, golden mist, all t...
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