Cherry Ripe, Cherry Ripe

Cherry Ripe, Cherry Ripe

Ripe I cry

Full and fair ones

Come and buy

Cherry Ripe, Cherry Ripe

Ripe I cry

Full and fair ones

Come and Buy

~ English Folk Song written by Robert Hennick and turned into music by Charles Edward Horn~

Cherries

I have the tendency to speak and write about random things that I observe or feel, most of which involving twisting lovely ideas into dark, strangely different perspectives. Some people think it the source of the weirdness I am occasionally labelled with. It's not a bad thing; it's just that sometimes my imagination goes wild.

Now several weeks ago, our extended family divided stacks of cherries amongst ourselves. They are quite a luxury; not something we have for dessert normally. And as I looked at the plumpness of their shape, felt the cool firmness of their skins, tasted the gushing sweetness of their juice, I couldn't help but link it to this thought.

Do cherries not resemble little hearts? All of them flushed with the rosy hues of the emotional organ, the seed being the promise of eternal life. Perhaps their parent tree is the plant that brings back the minute signs of the living after death in the form of little fruits beating in synchronization.

It bleeds too

I actually bit into the fruit and squeezed out a little drop of juice onto my palm to let you see what I mean. Looks rather like blood, does it not? It bleeds as would a heart. And if you lick the juice up, would that be how Gothic shows create their illusion of bloodshed? Then if the cherry is a heart, would you not be sinking your teeth into the core of a soft-beating life?

I either sound like I'm a day-dreamer of curious stuff or plain scary. Either way, it is something I embrace (well, sometimes), so hopefully this will make you think twice before eating cherries.

That leaves more for me!

PS. Am back from a long holiday. Managed to escape stress and reality for some time, hence being an overall wonderful trip. More strange ideas concurred from the trip later.