The Elegant Fruit Poem by Wilfred Mellers

The Elegant Fruit

Paradise lies between her thighs.
No need to question why.
Her love I got to try before I die.
Spread like the river Nile.
Sleek, luscious in bonny profile.

Hidden from view in a silken wardrobe landscaped in a stubble canyon.
Draped by ferry sprouts cut in style Portuguese neat.
Unadorned speaking to me in dialects I listen carefully.
Flowers bloom in seasons I am the butterfly.
No longer from my eyes forsaken beauty's fondness.
I adore to absolute its lack of consistent uniformity.

No painting picture perfect truth in concepts beholding I never.
Gauguin, Rembrandt, Monet, Van Gough, could not capture grace so splendidly.
Given an ear to linger aimlessly casting one's eyes on my deliverance.
Caught in your flame-dazzled eyes outreach yearning scents desirable.
Glancing diligently I'm gazing mystified by such beauty I tremble for a chance one touch. Shakespeare would be at a loss for words to describe such magnificent pondering.

Lotus flower opening sends sensations downward spine travels chills inspiriting. Vanilla floats the man in the boat not yet sunken treasure possessed by you I seek. As motions turn yond gentry stabilized footing resist oceans turbulent seas. Graceful the folds that hold back gentle tides savored auspicious lips bearing east to west.
Apart persuaded by fingers nimble reveal the fruit of the heavenly body
Sights so gallant cause emotions lifted skyward bound.

At rest, I lay my head between caverns so majestic sending me a new sensation warm. The cerebral cortex is in flames only to the satisfaction of an injection. Glands are so swollen that the speech apparatus utters nonsense aloud. I stumble and mumble for my eyes cannot be moved.
Knees fall from inflamed feet as Her Majesty is promoted to goddess of the morning. Knees almost buckling from such sights of glamor bestowed.

Once again, castaway to silk coverings smiles the valiant knight.
The mere pleasure found my eyes seeing the glory of it all.
Reaffirming life's beginning revealed Mother Earth to her loyal subject.
Panting from such excitement in utter disbelief silent sounds roar.
Haven has been privy to a miracle of creation on lips run dry.
Nothing more beautiful can be beheld nor made by man for perfect incarnate.

So, what truly lies between her thighs? The beginning, the middle, and the end of creation. Priceless flowers on pedestals are gentle and sweet in a pink state. She has it all, yet not knowingly for her thoughts are compromised. Eyes now opened to the prize she cries tears of joy.
Magnanimous appreciation is given now to the butterfly.