The Passion Fruit

Reaching up high

I pick the ripest passion fruit

It holds fast to the vine,

But I am strong.

Cradling it close to my face

I feel its warmth from the sun.

It glows from the inside out.

I see flashes of colors

Like a flag spinning through the air

To the beats of a color guard show.

It is the music that I never tire of

and feel in every ounce of my body.

It is flawless

I keep it close

and let its aroma encompass me.

I never get enough

of the juices and the flavors.

They taste of victory and defeat

Both just as sweet.

It drips down my hands

leaving an unforgettable path.

The stain reminds me

Of words I leave on the page.

I hear them in the silence

and see them in my sleep.

They are flawless

This small piece of passion

Makes my life full

Beautiful

Flawless