The lush-ripe fruit Flower gone to seed Would have me eat her Peeling back the leather skin Avoiding those too-tender spots Calling to me from her stall I pick her up in fondest hope Sometimes it's a rare treat Perhaps most precious of them all Feeling sticky juices spread So sweet my mouth explodes Wondering what else merits effort Overpowering tropical scent One could revel in all day Sometimes though it's not so sweet Hints of iron in the taste Dry and hard unyielding flesh With strings stuck in the teeth Still I remember perfect flavours And wanting not to waste I eat Thinking maybe next time She'll be ready-ripe Maybe next time again She will be a joy to eat
Please link, don't copy.
This work is Copyright (c) Mike Fletcher 2006