Cherry Picking with Grandpa

Sweltering heat permeates through the air
And a cool breeze tickles my hair.
Cherries hang like bright burgundy rubies from the trees
Kids like me, are so easy to please.

They are plump and smooth unlike his hand
That is frail, wrinkled, and tanned.
Floral aroma fascinates my nose, teeth slice into its taut exterior, sweet bliss,
Leaving a bloody stain like devil’s last kiss.

A wry smile, brumous eyes still glinting with youthful purpose,
And cherries, refreshing amidst the warmth.
I wish I had known how many years. I wish I had known
To savor the warmth, that wasn’t from the sun

But from him, up a cherry tree,
Because little did I know, there would only be three.

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