She tasted like childhood and Sunday morning

I drank coffee

and she had pancakes,

fluffy thick

and golden brown,

stuffed with blueberries

big as marbles,

the melting butter

blending with the maple syrup

looked like a liquid tiger eye stone,

I watched her put the first

bite into her mouth,

a blueberry bursting,

its dark, thick juice

dripping down her chin,

and the instant,

almost erotic,

flash in her eyes,

as pleasure centers

lit up with sugary delight,

the involuntary smile

on her face

was something too beautiful

to resist,

and I leaned in,

pressing my mouth to hers,

she tasted like childhood

and Sunday morning,

her lips soft

and sweet.