Peach Pit

Little peaches hang from crooked finger branches, heavy with sweat and iron

Daisies trampled under feet caked with present and presents past, watch as

Snowflake cherubs sprint across wallpaper stripped skies like

Summertime bullets in clapboard neighborhoods.

Ring true the bounce and spring from apple blossoms smoked and smothered

By ashes reigning from pulpits gently battered

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