he walked down the unpaved street,
passing shops, restaurants, and carts of
Music from the natives floated through
the air, like a breeze.
and stepped, proudly
with his new sandals,
and duty free designer watch he just bought.
"Heaven. This island is like heaven." He thought.
The singles cruise in it's fourth day
and so far he was still,
At the corner the wooden cart stood
with hand weaved baskets
full of fresh
hand picked goods
An island girl,
her skin matched the
Mangos, kissed by nature
They only grow like this
here on the island
and no where else in the world
He glided by like on slow moving wheels
She asked with dawdling accented voice
as sweet as the ripened fruit she was selling,
"Would you like to taste da Mango?"
Her words tango'd
in is head
Her smile alluring, her long lustrous hair
carried ocean waves midway down her back
Her bright yellow linen blouse was peeled
from her shoulders, like the bananas in her basket
and her mini red skirt budded outward like
Her eyes batted and flashed, with lashes long and curled
their shine matching the radiance of the sun.
That only shines like this
on this island and no where else in the world.
"Come on, boy. Come taste my fruit."
copyright © Sophia C. Simmons All Rights Reserved