There you are, blushing
Full of life and sweetness and warmth
And kissed by the sun that streams across my shoulder
As I’m on my knees in front of you,

I gently hold your soft bud between my fingers and thumb
And see how the light catches your rounded form.
Seeing your ripeness, I tweak, without squeezing
Pull gently, feeling your tension, to test your readiness.
My mouth is watering… anticipating your taste, while making a conscious effort
To delay my gratification, just a little longer;
For I know you are close, and that I must wait,
Until you are ready to release, willingly…
Until you respond to my tender touch and let go
To free-fall…
Into my big, strong hands
Where I will honour you,
As best I can.

Yes, tasty little bud
How I long to open my lips and feel your succulent firmness pressed against them
How I long to touch you with my tongue
How I long to suck in your delicate flesh
Nibble on your fulsome ripeness, and roll you around in my mouth.
And then, when you are ready, and only if you are truly ready
I will bite down with gentle pressure
Until your juices release and mix with mine;
And in that moment
We will join.

Such is my longing—I must warn you—that I will consume you, entirely
And you, instantly, will become an indiscernible part of me,
Infusing every cell of my being as your earthly form melts
And transforms
Into mine.

I’ve enjoyed watching you, lounging in the sun, arms open to the sky
And I’ve lovingly helped nurture you for this moment, seen your wildness soften
And in recent weeks thought that the time was soon… often
I wonder how I could have been so patient…
A less patient man would have moved earlier
Fearing others might discover you before he did.

So… Wondering…
Is it now?
The moment to try my delicate touch and feel how you respond?
How carefully must I invite you, tenderly, into communion?
How gently must I pull to test your willingness
To be pressed to my now-impatient lips
Where I will taste your warm, sweet juices
And then move my hands, mindfully,
Down, under, and along your outstretched arms
To delicately touch you
And harvest
Of the just-ripe raspberries you bear so beautifully,
And love them into jam.

Neil Davidson
17 June 2020
Leuven, Belgium