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Feeding a Doe

She was tiptoeing over the underbrush,

when she caught my scent

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in the wind.

But instead of bolting

into the safe pinewoods,

she in her winter hunger

could only focus on

the piece of chocolate

melting between my fingers.

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So there I stood in expectation,

waiting for her slender legs

to bring her closer

to the sweet reward

I had to offer.

If she would only overcome

her shyness for a moment

by kissing my hand.

(And she did.)

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