Thursday night re-runs.

I don’t want anyone to think I only talk about M.F.

I also love peaches …and writing about them. (here’s a re-run).

There was no apple in the garden – it was a peach.

Fuzzy, soft, and still warm from the sun. And you held it in your hand and as you turned it over, the flesh seemed to yield. That beautiful rosy skin that was blushing like a young girl. The fragrance was of long, easy, summer days. As you took that first bite, you were surprised at the strength, the skin that yielded but did not break. Yet you had to bite down, you had to know and as you pierced inside, you stopped. Startled at the rush, the delicious juice, that was only beginning to run down your chin.

And you knew you would not turn back, you had to plunge forward, forward …into the peaches, peaches, fragrant, heat of summer.

There was no apple in the garden. A peach is passion, a peach is love-
delicious, exotic, sweet, juicy. Like love there is no graceful way to negotiate the terrain – it will be delicious, passionate, an aromatic, awkward, sticky, mess. And the juice will touch you and leave you forever stained.

The artwork is called “Perched On A Peach” it is by one of my B.F.F’s…contact me if you’re interested in purchasing a print.


One Response to “Thursday night re-runs.”

  1. I agree with you about those peaches, there is something so sexual about them. And so fucking delicious.

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