The Peach

I saw a peach on someone-else’s tree. I watched it grow. On the outside I saw it was colourful, different to the others. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted it. Daily the peach changed on the tree. I wanted to touch its skin: out of bounds. I awaited the day I would surely taste it with pleasure. I dreamt of that peach. My mouth watering in anticipation. I loved the dream so much I became afraid of the reality. One day I plucked up courage and ventured into the garden. I reached out but my peach was gone. On the ground my dream in reality: The best parts robbed by lesser mortals The worst left to rot. A year later I remembered my peach. I wished I had tasted it. I remembered where it had fallen and returned to the place. A new seedling had started to grow.