Old Tomato
How many times did I look at
You on the counter and think
About putting you into a salad
Or a sandwich or just taking you
Into my hand and maybe taking
A bite of your firm juiciness so
It could run down my chin with
Enough flavor to make me close
My eyes and smile and laugh?
I would return
Again and again
For more of you.
Even with a strong
Pull, I passed you by
For something else.
I see you sitting there now like
an old man with wrinkled skin–
With time eating
Him up from inside.
Will you be tossed
Or savored
at last?
Writing in Sand 