At the florist, a lady
smelled heavenly; 
I grew nearly
intoxicated; swooning 
from the air 
in her hurried presence; 
air subverting agrarianism.
Against my will, I began 
devouring her, 
leaving only her fragrance, 
the still afternoon, 
and the stunned Mums 
who placidly watched; 
gazes, growing like fruit.                
Well conceived and elegantly brought forth with artistic brilliance. A beautiful work of art. Thanks for sharing Lamont and do remain enriched.
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