Hanging on the bough are a few rotting peaches.
I stare at them from my window as though they were
Beckoning me to see, to hear and to tell their story…
Browning under the sun and losing luster they cease to
Be appealing to the eye but my mouth waters at the smell
Of their odor coming from a high breeze blowing…
How did I forget to pick them?
They were too high and there were so many others
Easier to grasp and just bite!
Now my hunger aches in my throat and I wonder if
I never saw them would I desire their succulence at this
Hour of reflection…
Temptation is a fruit that can hurricane or lulls you
Into tasting more than nectar…
Sometimes leaving it rot is safer.
Poet's Corner 