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
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