Oh Sweet William!
Look at you, with your pastoral charms, ripe for the picking curvaceous and smooth, pale green and firm, large, pyriform bottom. Your sweetness is sickly, but always bearable, to me. In full sun, you tend to blush, flush, your naked skin a rosy pink. I spin you around, admire you from every angle. Shapely, exquisite. A gentle squeeze leaves dimples, barely imperceptible indents on your thin outer layer. Your pale white innards, once hard, compact, when rolled between my tongue and the roof of my mouth, now a mushy, grainy consistency. Your juice oozes between my teeth, sweetens my gums. No crunching here, just slurping. Sticky juice trickling down my chin and arms. I’ve devoured your pastoral charms. Simone Chalkley Image by Vitya Lapatey