Watermelon
Watermelon slice glistens.
My teeth sink into pink.
Sweet crystals burst,
juice spurts,
streams down my chin,
cold like lake-water,
plunging me
into summer joy.
My brother launches
seed cannonballs
at my sister.
Disapproval ripples
across Mama’s brow.
“Indeed!”
Gran chuckles.
But I slip my seeds,
smooth and flat
as skipping stones,
into my pocket
one
by
one
for later,
when days are shorter,
drabber,
murkier.
These seeds,
cool and slick
between my fingers,
will bring blissful
memories flooding back, `
helping me skip past
fallwinterspring,
to summer joy
once more.
My teeth sink into pink.
Sweet crystals burst,
juice spurts,
streams down my chin,
cold like lake-water,
plunging me
into summer joy.
My brother launches
seed cannonballs
at my sister.
Disapproval ripples
across Mama’s brow.
“Indeed!”
Gran chuckles.
But I slip my seeds,
smooth and flat
as skipping stones,
into my pocket
one
by
one
for later,
when days are shorter,
drabber,
murkier.
These seeds,
cool and slick
between my fingers,
will bring blissful
memories flooding back, `
helping me skip past
fallwinterspring,
to summer joy
once more.
This poem is copyright (©) Cindy Greene 2025
About the Writer
Cindy Greene
Cindy loves to write poetry and picture books while sitting at her kitchen table, while running, and when she is supposed to be sleeping. Cindy helps non-profits, works on issues of racial justice, and spends time with her fun family and ball-obsessed dog. She likes to laugh a lot. Cindy’s poetry can be found in several anthologies and stamped in a concrete sidewalk in her town.
