I lay there, ripe.
Swollen in the wet grass.
Waiting.
My brightness catches your eye.
You pick me up,
Inspect me for flaws.
Rub me on your sleeve.
And then,
When I’m ready,
You bite hard,
Into my delicate skin,
Concealing the soft,
Yielding flesh inside me.
My sweet juices,
Fill your mouth.
Drip down your chin,
You lap at them,
With your tongue.
Soon, I am devoured to my core.
You fling the rest of me,
Into the woods.
Your task is complete.
And mine.
For I am here,
To sacrifice my flesh.
And return my seeds,
To the earth.
Bow…..
Wow..?
It’s an exclamation, used on this occasion to indicate that I’m impressed. I really like the piece.
Well, thanks! *bows* I actually sat down to write a poem about my cold glass IES apple, but this came out instead. Funny how that happens.