A Peach Tree Standing in the Garden

And a peach tree stood in the garden

The sap from bark rubbing, hardened

Yellow-red fruit hanging from a branch,

waiting for the right person to pass by per chance

From green to yellow, orange, and red

The epitome of Summer coming to a head

Smell the sweetness

The fragrance of peachness

Let the juice dribble down your slick chin;

The revelry of youth and folly of sin

All held within one peach

The food of poets tasted, but now out of reach

So look to the garden

At the scarred, sappy bark hardened

And smell the sweetness

Summer's completeness

And smell the sweetness

Of a peach tree standing in the garden.