What Am I? Poem by Leslie Briggs

On a warm day in the middle of June,
I went to a picnic with lots of food.
The first type I had was pink, or was it red?
The taste I knew, so I did not dread.
I took a bite and hit something hard,
It hurt my mouth and my teeth were jarred.
Though, the succulent taste was enough,
To make my breath go out in a puff.
As I devoured the snack I was keen,
Not to bite into a rind that was green.

(September 23,2008)