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Orchard Thieves

by Stephen Ellams

Through the grasslands where our serpent glides
Between broken hearts and subtle lies
Losing all sense of time
In this paradise stolen

Over mountains of slow progress
Inside a deep coital crevice
Gorging on our lover’s prime
Devouring wild kisses

For we are those two orchard thieves
Nestling in a bed of elder leaves
on a susurrous Midsummer’s Eve
Brazenly skyclad

In the death throes of a blissful sleep
Hourglass embers of dual body heat
Dressed in sorrow we must soon return
To a silence that betrays us

Copyright © 2014 by Stephen Ellams

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