Sunday, September 9, 2012

and the sticky sweetness of Spring...

I know that you
associate me

with the smell of vanilla.

And I have come
to realise

the smell
of fresh strawberries

makes me think of you...

I cut one in half,
it looks like a little heart;

its juice stains my fingertips.

Putting my finger in my mouth,
I taste its sticky sweetness

and again,
(for the second time in as many minutes)
I think of you;

and how
you've stained me too.

Nearly a week before...

In darkened train carriage
hurtling southward,

I eat
sticky, sweet fruit salad

made with tender care & love.

My senses
(all but sight
in this ragged night)

are in rapture.

Unable to sleep,
well fed,

fill my mind's eye

Sushi & Tobhey Riddle in
Spring-drenched park.

Your eyes flashing
with delight
at suggestions of more

chocolate ice cream.

Discovering Aotearoa's 'Literary Greats'
in secondhand bookstores.

Long overdue
touch & kisses,

and more than the Surgeon General's
recommended daily dose

of hugs.

Fish fried in breadcrumbs.

Art openings,
fine dining and movies
with dear friends.

And another

full moon.

Apart once more,
what can I offer

in this absence?

I hope that these
sticky, sweet words
(for now)

are enough.

They too

are like
fruit salad,

made with tender care & love.

May they sate your hunger,
& fill you with joy...

Until next
we (together)

feast on:

each other

and the...

Sticky sweetness of Spring.

(c) Brent M Harpur, 2012.

"Without ice cream, there would be darkness and chaos." (Don Kardong)

"I doubt whether the world holds for anyone a more soul-stirring surprise than the first adventure with ice cream." (Heywood Broun)

"Life is uncertain. Eat dessert first." (Ernestine Ulmer)

- For E.

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