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A watermelon, fresh and cold;
It’s juice and flavor sweet,
Calls to mind a backyard, shaded,
Warm sand beneath bare feet.
An old wooden picnic table,
Red slices passed around,
With jokes and giggling summer fun,
Spitting black seeds on the ground.
A double-layer cake of white,
With coconut piled high,
Was my mother’s masterpiece,
That taste still brings a sigh.
Those cakes were made for special times,
Church dinners, kids’ birthdays;
Fluffy icing, luscious goodness,
Flavor-rich in love’s “sweet” ways.
Sensation of my first pizza,
Crusty, hot, dripping cheese,
Stayed with me and left me hungry
For more and more of these.
Friends came along who shared this love
for pizza parlor fun;
Chaotic, laughing teenage scene,
From one new taste begun.
Biting into a fresh-peeled peach
I recall my Grandad’s hands,
As he taught me how to can them,
Indulged “sampling” on demand.
If random foods can touch us so,
I realized, with a start,
Eating is more than lips and tongue,
Taste sometimes involves the heart.
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