The Girl Who Ate the National Park

Today I present an old poem, written at least a decade before "Doubts". What this poem lacks in poetic format, and style, it reaps in sentiment. Enjoy: the Girl Who Ate the National Park I was picking apples, from polystyrene boxes, when she held aloft a spiky green football and her excited voice asked, “What do you call this?” She named it durian. I didn’t know, and pulled a lettuce from its packing. Harvested multigrain rolls from bakery bins, and hunted sandwich ham from fridges. I laid our picnic mat down amongst market gardens, and planted myself to grow in her company. Uncorked a shiraz in a vineyard, and savoured her smile. Pulled an apricot from the cooler, in an orchard, and hungrily consumed her words. She took to the park's paths like shopping aisles. Selecting ingredients for a salad from green foliage shelves. She chose a duck dish as it flew above us, and decided on a fish, as we watched it swim beneath the waterfall. Then as we left, she created a desert from the trees. Her touch stopped me. Rooted me to the spot, where we ravenously embraced. Our feelings blossoming around us. Forming a canopy which we took shelter under, and bore fruit, that we ate together. Our appetites sated.