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Foxglove

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I am the foxglove to your hands
and we dance round and round
till you turn purple on your finger tips.
And your lips, they are so beautiful,
let them touch each spot.
Little whispers of bells and faintly colored,
before the best is known, I am poison.
Elegant lines, sleek and sleep I say,
To where you dream.
Every part is deadly.
Oh kiss me, with your foxglove finger tips.





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