Peachy 

Tangerine and violet plum

Cherries ripe, our lemon sun..

Fruits of fancy, strange or not

Fill the bowl , a mixed up lot

But ….

To beseech the ripest peach

Tree top highs we’ll climb and reach

Irregular moon, oh tender sphere

Your velvet voice elixirs fear…my dear, my dear,

Strong tree bares a winter’s branch

But hope it will not ever blanch

The hues of color still to see

Shades of dreaming, wild and free….

For buds of summers call

They come to break the wall

Of melancholy stone…. not alone… not alone

Flushed pink in a succulent spring of love

Soft red to the call of a morning's dove

Strong and yet easily bruised

but I would not choose

to change such a beautiful condition...

Your delicate aroma contrition

To life’s stormy shores

We open the doors

To a

peachy

new

day

May you shine, my love

divine……