Golden orbs on warm boughs sway, nestled close where low walls stay. Fingers peel the skin so thin, and amber …
Golden orbs on warm boughs sway, nestled close where low walls stay.
Fingers peel the skin so thin, and amber crystal glows within.
A child's basket filled to the brim, laughing: "The sweetness turns to frost!"
First to catch spring's fleeting breath, yet fragrant still from last year's vine.