Pears
When you appear in my memories,
What I see first is your face,
Your frown, as if you tasted something foul.
Instead, I alter the view,
Recall your breasts, welcoming,
Gentle, round and perfect like pears.
My face goes to your breasts, to embrace
You there. To smile the reverse of yours,
A smile of delicious comfort that for a moment
Dispels your loneliness and your sorrow.
Was your sadness there from your time before us
Or was it from the life we did not beget?
When I conjure your face, that regret
Comes too. You will never admit, I know,
But that loss we shared is set
Against a love our bodies felt,
And that our minds never could.
Jack
Apricocks... Be kind and courteous to this gentleman; Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes; Feed him with apricocks and dewberries, With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries; The honey-bags steal from the humble-bees, And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighs And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes, To have my love to bed and to arise; -Shakespeare: Midsummer Night's Dream
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