How perfect for the spring of life
this lusty, luscious fruit
ripened, tender to the touch,
pores, filled with nascent stubble, kin to freshly shaven flesh,
perfection ... not too large ... yet large enough,
and shapely, yes--ah yes ... shapely
Sensually cunieformed, this juicy berry,
one would think it Godly made to tease the eyes ‘n tongue of winter wearied man.
the fullness of its contoured puffs,
perfected, clefted ... to suggest,
a thought of springtime gamboling.
Red ... a passioned color for such innocence
throws forth a wafting redolence...
ah yes ... aroma so defined and so divine
deep when ripe, brings forth a ripeness of the mind
of every man who smells the red ... red..., redolence.
Succulent ... without question ... a succulence to tingle on those tasting buds,
a sensuous spasm ... to tantalize the turgid tongue ... tip stretched,
to touch the tender flesh
Replete with redness, fullness, redolence, eye closing succulence ... ah yes.
And, yet what of this berry so divine?
in season to be eaten--eaten ‘tween those hungry lips,
tasted by those tongues so tantalized ... then gone.
Yes, gone ... another patch to raise;
another berry to be praised,
another crop to grow tomorrow,
another springtime will we borrow?