No idea how to hold on to peachful lusciousness.
I see the photos of perfection and I weep-
but only for a moment.
The aging peach is worth something-
Still sweet- still younger than prune juice....
but older than strawberries picked in may-
A fragrant rose yet.
Some I see are no longer flowers- or roses or fruit.
They are the vine itself, or the tree well rooted.
Beautiful, strong, weathered, still perfect,
While others fade out.
And why are some resilient?
Disease and poor tending make a difference.
Wisdom with time is far lovelier still~
and what I long for in these middle years.