Color: Peach

Here’s the thing. I don’t like peaches. I mean as a fresh fruit. Slippery PEELED canned peaches in the middle of winter: I can do those. And my mouth waters just as much as the next fatty for a peach pie. But as a fresh fruit, not so much. Biting into a fresh peach is like French kissing a cat. At least I think that’s what it would be like. For the record, I am not much of a cat person either. For some reason peach skin makes me think of cat fur balls and before you know it I imagine French kissing a cat, a CRANKY cat, when I think of biting into a peach. On the contrary, I LOVE nectarines. And I like apricots. In fact, a peach is more the color of (the inside of) an apricot, than what is more oftenly referred to as the color “peach.”

The color peach falls in the pastel category. I’m already on record as not preferring pastel colors. I like the color of slippery PEELED canned peaches. But not the color peach. Does that make sense? But the challenge is to write something that the color peach evokes. So here goes:

I do not like the fruit the peach
I would not eat one on a beach
I would not eat one on a plate
A peach’s a fruit I love to hate

A nectarine a better choice
It does not choke away my voice
Another choice the apricot
I would devour, a peach I’d not

Stubborn too, it holds the pit
Not letting go, it will not quit
As if it knows it will be tossed
And hope of future generations lost

The color even turns me away
Too pale to notice anyway
Not bright or brilliant, won’t turn an eye
Flesh-like and pale, it will not fly

And so, you see, the peach I loathe
Because it sports a furry clothe
I’d rather Frenchly kiss a cat
Than bite into a fruit like that