Glistening in my grandfather’s bowl
Perfect, clustered jewels
Beads of water clinging to small, enchanted spaces.
with their sensual promises
exploding in my mouth.
The anticipation builds,
my memory teases me with
the taste of perfect summers past.
I take one precious
and pop it in my mouth and unable to stop myself I bite
its flavor is too sharp, too tart
and I find that I do not want