She lies
on white sheets against a white wall,
strawberry lips stealing
the minds of all who see her.
That color, delicately smeared across her skin,
brings you back to a moment as a child,
when you first glanced down the rows of red
orbs dangling in sun touched fields of green.
You sat,
eagerly, beneath the arms of an old opalescent,
waiting as the sun stretched higher in the sky.
Others roam around, touching and tasting
as they steal a sample of sweetness,
discarding each after its filled its use,
but not you. You will wait for the one
you want to give in to temptation, and drop
into your unwavering arms.
It falls,
and you watch as your coveted ruby
plummets towards you. All you can do
is think about is how beautiful it looks,
momentarily suspended in the sky, shining
like a lunar eclipse on a cloudless night.
You reach for it, praying you can soften the
bruising blow it would otherwise
receive from the harsh ground.
And you do.
Its skin
smooth to the touch. Its surface, shiny.
With squinting eyes you can see
your own smile in its reflection.
Tongue tingling, mouth watering, you yearn
for a taste. You’ve seen excitement
before, but for some reason, this moment
makes your heart beat faster than the flap
of a hummingbird’s wings. Your lips
meet its skin, slowly, shaking,
nervous of what may come.
You bite.
Firm, yet supple. Sweet nectars drip down
your chin and fall to the ground, showering
the ants below with tiny drops of heaven.
Its core sits uncorrupted, not spoiled or
stained but soft and succulent. You see her
lips, touch them, taste them, and once again
you are a child in an apple field, waiting
for the right one to fall into your arms.