Red strawberries, brown sugar, one hour
Bought hurriedly at a traffic light, released from their plastic prisons, they bled slowly in the bowl, their plump ripeness giving way to the magic of the coarse yet velvety brown sugar
Macerated, what a delicious word, they oozed their goodness until they lay there helplessly in a slurry of divine brown sauce
Shocked further into submission with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, crimson was soon eviscerated into deep scarlet
Thank you for dying dear strawberries, so that I might taste heaven
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A nice poetic imagination, Simona. You may like to read my poem, Love and Lust. Thanks