Furry Peach, a fruity poem, by the Marchioness of Dorchester at Tale Teller Club
pray allow her right honorable gentleman,
a stroke of her furry peach?'
I was taken aback,
as a lady and a writer of simple poems,
that word had spread about such furriness
in my fruit bowl.
But my heart skipped a beat nonetheless
as the thoughts of furriness and fingers
contrived to make the Marchioness quite gasp
I flicked my fan and sat more appropriately
for my gentleman to seek the fruit
The peach had fallen from the tree of virtue long ago and was
dripping juice already.
'My,' said the honorable gentleman,
'such fruity aromas and moisture abound from my Lady's Peach.'
'Yes,' my good Sir said I,
'It is best eaten quickly
before the ravages of time take their forever hold.'
@2023 Marchioness of Dorchester