This morning, as I cut into
the tough flesh of the huge tomato
with its brown, half-healed scar
like an old sabre wound from some great battle,
...
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A friendly poem about an ordinary happening made extraordinary by the skill and sensitivity of an exceptional poet. I used to grow tomatoes years ago. There is nothing quite so sweetly tart as a home grown gross lisse warm from the garden. love, Allie xxxx
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A friendly poem about an ordinary happening made extraordinary by the skill and sensitivity of an exceptional poet. I used to grow tomatoes years ago. There is nothing quite so sweetly tart as a home grown gross lisse warm from the garden. love, Allie xxxx