as i take a slice into this pregnant fruit
pregnant with an aroma of freshly cut morning grass
i indulge on a memory of intimacy with this
sooo delicate
being such a deliciously deserving fruit
deserving the touch of my tongue
to the warmth in my mouth
taking advantage of my screaming taste buds
before going south
riding down the slide of my throat
to the open arms of my belly
which are very, very welcoming
welcoming to this 
delicate
so deliciously 
deserving fruit
Mmmmm, 
Watermellon                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                     
                
good poem...10+...please check out 'Food Of Sorrow'