Fresh

Cadences of fresh roses

bud in a decadent season of fun.

It hurts at first but the feeling goes away.

This natural sensual visual treat

beholds within itself a parable feast.

Trash is trash to all but some.

Twists of swings liter the literal 

base line of links. Fences force

the fingers apart.

I scoop up the tooth that fell and 

it looks like tiny diamond flesh.

Jelly or gin it swishes the simple

sample of sustenance. 

Bored to breath a bear circles 

and I forgo any sense.

Everything is conglomerate in the community 

and I fall to mutiny.