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Plums from An Aging Poem Tree

I hope Ye read me poetry,
true plums they may not always be.
But from me heart they grow on
this old poem tree.

Now if Ye can find the time,
read me poems from line to line.
The plums Ye like,
please keep in mind.
The ones’ Ye don’t,
just leave behind.

Me poetry,
I hope Ye find as sweet as aged plum wine.
And when Ye drink it,
I hope it makes Ye fell just fine!

Jackie R. Kays


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