Purple To The Eye Her Fruit Is Ripe Poem by James McLain

Her fruit to the eye is heavy, full and ripe,
Touching the base
The base that is dripping clear and wet.

Between a girl and a woman over here where
Your not.
The older she gets the heavier it gets, pushing
Out full through,

Green panties made of the thin silk that she wears.
Some older women who look,
Realize that such a full life has passed them by.
Under the moon are rich pink skies,
Skies full of cloud's ready to burst full of rain.
The forest is full with tall trees, trees with large roots

That grow very deep in the ground.
This rich wet rain falls on the green leaves, here in
The woods out of sight.
Here the ground is rich loam full of the rain, wet
That falls from the sky.

Creeks here over run their tall bank's, running off to
The sea that was dry.
Her fruit to the eye is heavy, full and ripe, touching
The base of the sky.


Copyright © James McLain | Year Posted 2017