A Fruitful Comparison
My love is like a ripened nectarine;
Her rosy cheeks (both kinds) are so enticing;
The bloom upon her skin, that velvet sheen,
That flesh so sweet it has no need of icing.
How delicate her scent, discreet yet fruity;
And there, between each gently swelling mound,
The cleft that draws the eye to pulpous beauty,
Two perfect handfuls, luscious, firm and round.
I never shall forget the day I plucked her,
Caressed her skin, discovered her delights,
Revealed her naked flesh, tasted and sucked her
Before devouring her with loving bites.
For me, she’s sweetness unadulterated,
Though some might find her just a little tart;
My appetite would be entirely sated,
But for the stony pit that is her heart.
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Brian Allgar
would be pleased to hear them.