A poem for a delicious fruit high in potassium.
BY MERLE L. FELTHAM
The skin is yellow and fresh,
Carrying with it a fragrance of life;
Tho, thou hast an empty being
Thou shalt be eaten by my wife.
She tears thee along thy lines,
Being careful not to soil her hands;
Exposing thy freshly insides,
Until finally. Staunchly, lonely thou stands.
Her mouth gleefully upturned in a smile,
Her wide blue eyes regards her tender prize;
And thee, my friend, at mercy in her hand,
Ready to be eaten, regardless of thy size.
The size has diminished so,
And her smile increases with each bite;
She is happy with her victory,
Having taken thee beyond my sight.
And now, all that is left is thy skin,
As it lies heaped upon the table;
She has returned to bed,
And shock has made me unable;
To carry your remains to a hamper,
So that I may finally finish this fable.
Merle Feltham is a Canadian freelance writer and poet.