“Simple but artistic,” I requested.
Knowing he would take it to heart and head.
The gears activated as soon as the words left my mouth.
Half way through the air to his ear, he captured the means to celebrate this
Luscious Beauty as he conjured up a bushel filled
With adjectives to sing her praises.
”An Ode to the First Tomate,”
“The Pomme of 2016,”
His praise poem took shape,
But he knew he’d have to rush.
Will he have time before the notoriety makes her blush,
Overheat, and turn the fine sheen toward vain glory?
He has mere minutes to tell her, how much
He loves her.
Here they come, cameras loaded, ready for action.
Quick paparazzi elbow in to catch the glisten of her skin,
The promise of a juicy bite
The tilt of her sexy green-stemmed chapeau.
Plucked from his garden of Gloriannas
He searches frantically for the words to describe her care.
Water, sunlight, warmth,
Manure, ahhhhhh, that’s the answer, just right
For his dainty lass
He swore to her and to himself
This delectable darling would never be sold or sliced,
Neither diced nor dissected,
Instead her refined seductiveness
Would be immortalized in words,
Captured on film,