I keep finding peaches Peaches I don't think it's possible to not smile when you say the word they turn my cheeks the same color as their skin it makes me grin and laugh to see them sunbathing on the banister lining the window sills like shining trophies on my porch like children climbing to Set upon the tallest object They can find beaming as children do
Maybe it's cuz I grew up in the south Knowing you have to set them out And wait for them to be soft to the touch let them ripen in the Sun so you can then pick your fruit that up until now has been forbidden it's like a little fuzzy ball of gold Sunshine warming your face and your mouth I love the word peaches
maybe it's the memory, the name, Peaches “chin up, peaches” it carrie's such an innocence such a light-hearted, free-spirited happiness. something warm and welcoming and something I could only find at home
maybe it's the breakfast peaches and cream three ingredients so happy, so creamy, so sweet, smooth, summary, comforting it's what my grandma would give me so sugary, yet so filling it reminds me of her it tastes how she act it is her hyperbole peaches and cream is a grandmother it's as sweet as her voice as comforting as her touch as filling as her hug and as smooth as her skin.
maybe it's all three either way this time of Peach field windowsills will come again next year and the year after that and the year after that until I am the grandmother they represent and every year, I will smile.
I wrote this in peach seasoned, if you couldn't tell and as silly and stupid as it sounds peaches bring back beautiful memories for me. I tried to convey some of those memories in this poem, such as they're embodiment of my grandmother (who makes me that dish to this day).