Dear Macoun apple
How sweet and crisp.
The red and green skin, not perfectly smooth, but easily pierced. Your flesh, so white, so firm, yet my teeth slice right thru.
And on my lips, is that honey, a note of caramel, or is my mind tricked into thinking of apple pie? As I chew, a hint of pear grainy-ness complements the exquisite acid/sweet balance.
Another bite, another romance. And another.
Oh dear, Macoun, do not be jealous if I ravage your sister. Maybe I should have purchased three from the Farmers Market harem. Wait, last bite...
To the core.