Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Aug 2016 Darkly
Stephan
.

Tending to my fruit stand,
another lonely day
Hoping for a customer
to happen ‘long the way

When then I saw approaching
a funny colored van
It pulled off on the shoulder,
I wondered of its plan

The back doors slowly opened
and there before my eyes
Stood a gorgeous woman
beneath these sunny skies

Her eyes were soft and sable
with hair a darker hue
She smiled and said hello to me
I said, “How do you do?”

She stood before my table,
I couldn’t help but stare
First she touched an apple,
then she touched a pear

Suddenly she shouted,
for now her hand did reach
Excitedly she questioned
“Please may I have a peach?”

All I could do was stutter,
as I could barely breathe
She took a bite and then exclaimed
“The sweetest I believe”

Then she grabbed a couple,
and walking to her van
Sat upon the rear end sill,
then patted with her hand

I stumbled there to join her,
she handed one to me
“I just adore your peaches”
“Yes ma’am, that I can see”

I sat there with her eating
and maybe I am dumb
But juice was dripping from her lip,
I brushed it with my thumb

This seemed to make her happy,
her beauty such a view
Then I could not believe my ears,
She asked, “Can I kiss you?”

Well, forget what I said earlier
the “dumb” part wasn’t right
I pressed my lips against hers
and held them there real tight

They were sweet and sticky,
delicious like the fruit
Then we separated,
she grinned and said, “You’re cute”

“I really think I love you
and will forever true”

I felt my heart just skip a beat,
“Yes ma’am, I love you too”

“I just adore your peaches,
they’re the best in all the land”

We kissed again, this time good bye,
she climbed into her van

I watched as she departed,
standing on the curb
Thinking of her kisses
and the last thing that I heard

Then felt kind of lousy
this pristine summer day
Not for what had happened,
but what I did not say

I didn’t have the heart to tell
this woman of my dreams
The fruits this day that she enjoyed
were really nectarines
 Aug 2016 Darkly
A W Bullen
Toss these brackened antlers
to a Babylon of early crows
where slim repels of cirrus
lace the marches of Orion.
I wore you as an amulet
hard pressed upon my pestle arm
as charms of montane lunar drift
rebelled about your peacock gaze.

There is balsam on the Eastern run
in piquant writs of clementine ,
where jubilees of Persian mote
reveille in the waiting still.
As hieroglyphs of scrying palm
lay wraith about the cindered pane
you harried in ancestral bell..

The name of some forgotten God.
Next page