Between Breakfast and Bedsheets

Even now
at the end
of my summers
I look for one.
Skin just so
and weathered
from the sun,
swinging defiantly
from the branches
I pluck it, and
the weight is good
in my palm
My thumb
makes quick work
of swirling
down the valley
to warm the flesh
before burying my face
into hot fuzz.
And it gives
way between my teeth,
creamy texture
dropping its dress
beneath my tongue
dripping down
my face and
as if it were me,
seasons too soon,
between breakfast
and bedsheets.

© Nicole Lyons 2017


9 thoughts on “Between Breakfast and Bedsheets

I'd love to hear from you.

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s