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■ The oak
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I remember those early days
when these southern skies charged my being to their alluring ways held me upon the hazel heat and the heavy eyes, Played an old Patsy Cline to the air And laid the morning to my wants. These soft tailed southern woman that peek through their bust lines grabbing the intoxicated eye to their southern charm whimpers their heat up and down To the lilts of the day. Hungry to the passion they curb the beats of arousal wanting the deep end. hard thrust that would melt the suns rays on a blistering day Spending the rest of the morning sipping in the iced tea reflections contemplating the next conquest That would help ride the heat away. Alisdaire O'Caoimph
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