You wanted to taste the meat and juices of ripened pears plucked from the tree, and let their sugar drip from the corners of your young sensual mouth. The season was not near the trees were bare and cold and your time began to still with the wind. A wistful life, uneasy mind and tortured vacant womb left stranded upon a beach, your idealized love unrequited. Surrogates could not suffice full of themselves as river people Mow you have lived for a time in Dar-es-Salaam and your heart is still and calm.
