Ode to Cherries (Draft 1)
One of the sweetest fruits
Yet it comes and goes so fast.
A brief season
Of delicious, purple red
Plump, dripping cherries
Must satisfy
For a whole year
Until the season returns again.
Each one
Delicately placed
In a waiting mouth
Is savored to the full extant
Before the pit is neatly spit out.
Oh, for the sweetness of a cherry
The tender, perfect fruit
Which must wait
For the summer months.
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