Sweet

We live for the sweetness of the fruits that grow on the summer trees

            The sweetness of the watermelon, bursting little pink particles that melt in your mouth, the sensation that makes people slowly close their eyes when they want to capture a particular moment of bliss. Maybe the melon was only so sweet because the pain she felt earlier that day. Maybe if she hadn’t endured the pain, the melon wouldn’t have tasted to delicately sweet

 

            It was her unwavering thirst for adventure that sent her miles and miles

She’d run through oceans and storms

Up mountains and down rugged valleys

Through never ending forests thick with mud and stumps

She’d do whatever possible, if it meant tasting a taste so sweet as she had when she ate that rosy pink melon, bursting with seeds, overfilling with sweet sweetness.