Writing What You Love Loving What You Write
From the late Judy Beach
Ice Cream and Love
arlene s bice
It’s more than a childhood memory;
the texture, the flavors, the taste
rolling around my tongue, melting, creamy
soothing my throat, adding to my pleasure.
The biting cold stinging my mouth.
Strawberries freshly picked in spring,
chunks, dripping with sweet juices
lay over the mound of French Vanilla
in a fancy glass rimmed in gold
like kisses laying on my lips.
A summer-ripened cantaloupe,
hollowed out and filled with scoops
of Chocolate; blending, melting
with the juices of warm fruit
coming together as one body.
In the autumn when spicy flavors
of Pumpkin and Buttered Rum tease
the palate, tingling the tongue
licking the drips on the cone,
my fingers wrapped around it.
Cold winds come in winter,
volcanic hot fudge covers the
heaping icebergs of Black Walnut
like your hands caressing my
breasts with your touch.
Seasons define the years,
flavors define the seasons.
