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Oswego Tea

By Sasha West | Posted 6/13/2001

We sit and drink Bergamot among its blooms,
red to chestnut brown, square stems.
You pick the lance-shaped leaves
and smile at me, no more to say.
The bee balm petals open out.
Your index fingers run along the colored plea
and crush the pollen center,
scattering its children on your clothes,
brushing them carelessly off your hand.
I tell you what I thought
forever meant. You laugh and sip the mint.

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