There never was nor will there ever be a more poignant memory
Than when I held my girl's bared breast for the first time
There against the meadows ironwood split rail fence
Even her light blue shirt yielded softly as I fumbled with virginal buttons
The perfect form was beauty like strawberries and cream
I cupped that single breast in reverent hand
Caused a gasp
And gulping back my grateful tears
Began with hungry mouth
To shower kisses on shining eyes and ruby lips
In the crisp turquoise spring morning sun
The lark's song praised the seasons juices flowing
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