A fuzzy pink sweater adorns the cherry tree and all the ladies, half my age, are smiling at me. Or so it seems – maybe they’re just smiling near me. It’s hard to see with such watery eyes, as if I’m looking through melting ice. Each spring beckons me out the door, but I’m moving slower than the year before and can’t keep up as the ladies walk past. When did these women get so fast? Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief
This is kinda sweet! I say, assume the smiles and smile right back!
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Haha. I like that approach.
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The Cherry Tree Is Hot
Loveliest of trees
The cherry tree’s in its pink spring fling,
while I wear beige and ting-a-ling-a-ling.
A girl in crop-top joy walks by—
I try to smile. I pull a thigh.
Silly girl – all open top in freezing rain and she will cop it.
I laugh, or maybe it’s just the breeze.
Either way, I grunt like old floorboards and sneeze.
Ah, spring, no more sentimental shit
These day I just go out – enjoy it..
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Haha. Well done, Josie.
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Ha ha 😂😂 let them go fast but you enjoy looking at them 😄. Beautiful poem 💖
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Thanks, Priti.
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The women weren’t fast enough when I was young. Now they are too fast when I am old.
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