“You’re as sweet as a peach”, he said to me, whilst we sipped from his iced tea.
A Georgia one, ripe and soft, and grown perfectly in the sun.
A sugared kiss upon these lips, carried away in trancendal bliss..
Yearning for something that will always be a miss.
Could it be that I am a sap? Taken a back by the tip of his hat?
Could Mistah rough and rowdy has a soft spot for me?
I believe he does, the way he looks at me..
Yep oh yep.. he tastes delish, mighty fine, and that I am ok with.
Mistah Mistah, I will reflect upon,
Our time together in the Georgia sun. Never will I ever forget, the peaches we nibbled down to the pit. That is mine to think and share, to hold so closely and hold so dear.
The tea we made will taste divine when sipping from your memory so fine.