Eros by Lesley Dame

Eros
by Lesley Dame

Everything grows here – olive trees, peaches,
fresh mint mingle like breath before the kiss.

Soon grapes burst, olives harvested, the goats milked again.
Feta and peppers scorch a tongue any night.

Yet breath stops; meetings end. At some point, ropes
hang knotted to fishing boats, abandoned for the season.

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