Your shiny tight skin bursts in hues of red to green, my watering mouth hurts as I’m washing you clean. You loose memories free from a distant childhood, I think of Grandma’s tree, climbing up the hard wood. Crunching bites tangy sweet just a little too tart Green apples couldn’t be beat exceptContinue reading “A Honey-crisp Apple Sonnet”
Dawn Marie Paul Art & Books 