The Peach Divine

Alone in a field, the perfect tree see I through slumber's mist Shapely of trunk and bursting of the desirous As season approaches, in anticipation does it swoon and sway Heavy laden, for the harvester's touch does sacred fruit hang eager Caress of gentle hands find the moment right Ripe and ready, surrender follows gentle urging Sweet scent escapes its light covering "Oh taste me, for I will satisfy," it whispers Tender skin parts to reveal the sweet flesh within Kissed of sun, the gift received on fields green In moist overflow all consumed Rest now in its shade, for the perfect tree does bear fruit of another day