Wednesday, September 18, 2024

The Peach

I feel the stiffness and creaking of my joints
and remember that my hair is gray
because blight has swept across a shock of wheat.

I recall many things I can only recall in fits and spurts.
But then I behold beauty with long black hair
longer than white legs smooth as ivory,

blue eyes in which I could drown,
lips as cliched as cherries but just as sweet.
It is outrageous, unfair, altogether wrong

that Grecian beauty painted so finely
with the colors of a pagan springtime fair
is beyond the reach of a straw skeleton

carrying decades of burden and wrinkled care.
Oh, to be a wizard and spin myself back in time
to drink the juice of a forbidden summer love,

backwards leapfrogging all of my mistakes
so that I again may taste my first sip of wine.
I then remember the sure reality—

the pun most surely intended—
in which I am always as strong and supple
as the sapling that does not bend,

a cavalier who pulls close the slender waist
for a consummate kiss that never ends.
Such fantasies for me are as solid

as mountains etched on sky.
Who is left to tell me that I cannot live
for the dreamy night rather than the day?

Who commands my brain to order itself
in this or that or some other way?
I jog along, stop, jump, click my heels,

and exactly when that happens
is not for you to know or me to say.
Years fall away so easily when biting into a peach.

~William Hammett


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