The Apples
THE APPLES
Munching shiny apples from the fruit market
We face each other without pretending,
Our tablecloth of pure whiteness unmarked
Cotton, and our full cups overflowing.
She is the prettiest in the city, thinking
I only the finest cavalier, and eye only for her.
She is the only woman loved and loving,
In a world where none has loved before.
Of womanly-happiness she is the picture.
We are the couple I have always dreamed of,
When they look with tenderness at each other
And shine from the inside because of their love.
One face glows with light from the other’s -
A finger-touch sparks the fervour,
Brightening as entwining fingers
Tighten in anticipation of more
Outpouring of warm whiteness.
I feel your soul softly shake:
Fruitful prenuptial supper’s gladness.
Good-morrow and we wake. *
She is life - the apple of my eye.
We are all my shining world round.
Apples fallen from the same tree:
We are one soul from one ground.
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Note
* This line is based on John Donne’s “The Good Morrow” stanza 1.
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Written by Sydney Peck for
Nette Onclaud’s Contest SOFT SENSUALITY
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