my, my, my & mercy me : the wind has blown through the branches of her sugar maple tree!

her fruit asking for a squeeze – honoring my appetite with many more sonnets to please.

that’s my honey & ohh how she drips – leaving sticky notes fastened to her perfumed flavored hips.

she got the juice! n’ i? the serenade! the kind of cut that spreads marmalade, on a switch blade.

a cut not too kind but one that resembles a portrait in your mind.

a picture contesting to be wrapped by fruits glow – one that does not concentrate for too long or pretend to know.

instead, the wish of this blossom cherry berry, is to be held by an airy and charmed fairy.

one that is dime sized and incredibly scary.

frightful for even as angels guard & protect – they have a head, displaying many frightful faces.

after traveling too many narrow and wide unknown spaces.

these angels demand: that we not rise in fear – although the writing is on the wall, the pen did not call.

no, instead it flowed through the ink of my tears.

swelling deeply into the vessels of my fears.

these tear drops commanded that we come near:

to hear a word that can be seen and made more clear.

ENDEARED, we are beloved by the moving motions REVERED.

now :

i can’t help but sing and groove, for her juice has moved all my senses – her taste renewing my lenses.

to her, i must – serenade.

all of my typos? now outweighed!

by her honey shade & succulent blade !