(All writing published here is owned by me unless cited otherwise.)
I am holding a nectarine in my hand. I always have trouble deciding which I love more- the taste of fruit or the smell of it. Of course, grapes almost always smell so musty and stuffed. But oranges are like the bird out my window when I stay up to watch the dawn. And a peach- a peach is a needle stuck in a partially-done sweater, but also as ruddy in taste as the hurried breath of a schoolboy running. And a pear, a pear is like a crooked line. And beautiful as a phrase repeated twice, thrice.