I pass the treesThat normally burst with plums But only a few remain, Most have fallen and withered to the ground. I'm reminded of last summer Grabbing a juicy plum, And feeling like a juicy plum myself, Popping it into my mouth Then climbing up the grassy hill Sunburned and strong. A lot has happened since then And now I'm feeling more like the dried up plums That lie half broken on the ground. But I find comfort in knowing That with the change of the seasons I'll come out again too. I'll return ripe and ready, The kind of plum that drips from your lips With the first and every bite. I'll be the plum you want at least three of But you only allow yourself one Because you want the taste to linger All day, all night. Oh honey I'll be the juiciest plum When the time is right.

plum eater

GeneralGillian Young1 Comment