They're back,
stealthy sprite's, slippin'
'cross my sight,
buzzin' 'round the garden.
They've had their way
with the tomatoz,
whose blush betrays tomfoolery
by little busy fairy hands,
leaving round bums aflame,
green panties at ankles.
The butter beanz show
signs of impish inclination,
braided pods like dreadlocks,
falling from leafy brows,
beez grazing on the flowers
tucked throughout green hair.
And the pepperz,
just waiting to be pulled and stuffed.
Magic.
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