Written by: Keith Bickerstaffe

Red and juicy, 
sensual shape, 
sexual by nature, 
they drip promiscuously 
on my prurient lip.

Tastes of summer, 
girls in flimsy cotton dresses 
flirting shamelessly, 
and sinfully suggesting 
assignations in the park, 
in the darkness, for a lark.

Their flavors captivate, 
and make me ache 
for an intimate embrace.