Spring by Erika Robles We were by a river on a Sunday, where people did not want to bother two kids who looked at each other like bees looked at flowers. With your sly smile and your bright sunny polo shirt, you called me honey. Then you leaned forward. Before I knew my job, you pulled back so you could teach me how to kiss the right way. I didn’t know if you were leaving pollen, or if you were taking it. 52 theMeadow
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