The Peach

The Peach

I saw a peach on someone-else’s tree.
I watched it grow.
On the outside I saw it was colourful, different to the others.
The more I thought about it, the more I wanted it.

Daily the peach changed on the tree.
I wanted to touch its skin: out of bounds.
I awaited the day I would surely taste it with pleasure.
I dreamt of that peach. My mouth watering in anticipation.

I loved the dream so much I became afraid of the reality.
One day I plucked up courage and ventured into the garden.
I reached out but my peach was gone.
On the ground my dream in reality:
The best parts robbed by lesser mortals
The worst left to rot.

A year later I remembered my peach.
I wished I had tasted it.
I remembered where it had fallen and returned to the place.
A new seedling had started to grow.

c. Kerry Turner July 2007