I open the door and they are there
Leaning into each others side,
Burnished, with smiles hip wide,
Soft as ripe pears.
I say, “come in. Come in.”
I give them tea and cakes – mine yours.
I want to peel their warm brown skins
To feel their white wet cores.
We dunk little cakes into our drinks,
Tilt into each others hair.
We giggle and gossip – he she me we.
Golden pyramid of pear.
Goodbye they say and off they go,
Leaning softly curve to curve,
Poised between right and not,
Between ripe and rot. Friends.