the cress years


Yes 1 remembers cress

with a distinct fond

ness

the stubby sweaty thumbs

of its uncle-esque caress.





The way it laughed & cried

like turpentine

was far-right at times

& made myrtle wine.





Plus who can lest forget

the rash on its left elbow

that resembled

Rasputin or the Isle of Wight?

But that was many Manis

& several Lunas gone now

- mere dingy memories

dwindled of light

...




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