Moments of Juicy Clarity

In the quiet morning, I slice open a peach,

its ripe, sunlit flesh feels just out of reach.

The juice drips slowly, a river of sweet,

collecting in puddles, a taste I can’t cheat.

Over the sink, I lean in and breathe,

every drop falling like time, I can’t weave.

Memories flood back—warm summer days,

a sun-soaked adventure, the light in a blaze.

My fingers stick slightly, the flesh on my hand,

a reminder of childhood, untouched by the bland.

Each bite a reminder of life’s tender grace,

these moments of sweetness, we seldom embrace.