Pick me, I cling free,
Clasp me in your hand,
A ripe peach sweet fleshed,
Taste my blushed skin,
Bite into me as juices flow,
Lick the tang of my nectar,
Rejoice, renew, close your eyes,
Vision the nourishment you hold,
At my core is a bitter seed,
Do not cast it aside, plant it,
For tomorrow it will grow,
Becoming fruit laden branches.
Copyright: 2009, Donald Harbour
Donald Harbour Poetry 