As I anticipate the excitement,
I crave the experience.

As I wait to pick the foremost fruit,
the trees sway in the summer breeze.

As I attempt to reach the peach,
I stumble on the ladder.

As I stumble, Grandpa lifts me up,
and memories flow back. I miss him dearly.

As Grandpa raises me,
I feel the fruit, firm and fuzzy.

As I analyze the fruit,
it is promising, potent, and perfect.

As I raise the peach to my mouth,
the aroma fills my nose.

As I take a bite,
my face drips with juice.

As I savour the taste,
my taste buds explode.

As I remember the breezy summer day,
I think of mouth-watering peaches.

As I remember Grandpa,
I think of the foremost fruit.