A Bowl Of Strawberries

Right now, 
somewhere not here,
there must be
a bowl of strawberries.
If they were here

I’d split them with you —

all I want is the tips.

You can have the rest
as long as

I can feel the
gentle rasp of each point
when I push my tongue
across them all
one by one

and then 
consume each tiny peak
slowly, individually.

You 
can eat them as you wish:
forkfuls, spoonfuls,
handfuls at a time;

soak them down in nectar
or powder them with sugar
from crimson down to pink
before you begin;

they’re yours now,
do as you want, take
your own particular
pleasure in them;

I will as always
eat mine straight 
and pure without
enhancements;

slight bitter
under sweet,
sharp as the knowledge
that what I gave
was just as good
as what I held,

and both of us were satisfied.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

One response to “A Bowl Of Strawberries

  • behave

    You can ɗefinitely see your enthusiasm in the work you write.
    Thе sector hopes for more passionate writers likе you who
    ɑre not afraid to mention how they believe. At all times go after your heart.

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