The first rains of summer kissed the wounds of the drought closed, arousing the land to a state of bacchanalia.
sweet wine and laughter
on a warm wind, impromptu
bacchanalia
dark deeds and dirty whispers
bacchanalia is always prettier
when seen through the rose colored glasses
of lust and intoxication
endless summer filled
with laughter and ice cream, child's
bacchanalia
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