All Summer Long
It was ugly,
a misshapen ball, creviced
and bulging on one side
as if a hernia had pushed
through the lining just beneath
its skin - I held it in my hands,
lifted it to my nose to get the full
depth of its smell
then took a bite, unleashing
a burst of tomato, sweet, tart,
full flavored
like the warm, plump,
blood red ones I would sneak
from the prized crop my father
grew in our backyard
that graced the table
with thick slices of ruddy goodness
sprinkled with salt and pepper
and spread upon a white oval plate
all summer long.
Copyright © Paul Willason | Year Posted 2024
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