I’m snuggled in my bin at your local wine shop when you touch my face. You pick me up and cradle me, slowly turning me over; you are transported to that outdoor concert you attended years ago. The voices of old friends and the sound of laughter fill your head, laughter that grew louder with each sip. I flush at the thought of your memories, you notice, and you take me home. Instantly, we feel a connection.
Later that afternoon, you plunge me into a bucket of ice and carry me outside, where I start to soften. You see right through me. The scent of hickory and a summer’s worth of grilling fill the air. My head pokes out from the top of the ice bucket, where I watch as friends gather, hands clasp, fingers interlace.
Brusquely, you grab me around the middle, and now you see the full of my soft peachy blush. Holding me firmly, I start to sweat, beads dripping onto your hand and down your arm. Once released from my shell, I join the last reminders of summer with an aromatic creamy pinkish white that fills the senses with a lifetime of summer. Forever summer. We kiss, and I fill you with my tart raspberry and apricot essence. I linger in your mouth, spreading and changing, roiling your senses until I release the fullness of my sweet nature and slide down your throat, lowering the temperature but raising the heat.
Henry James Morello 