Into an endless strawberry field,
Two naked bodies were laying side by side,
Ripening in silence under the generous sun,
Almost like the rest of the surrounding fruits.

She raised her hand, holding one close to her lips,
And said:
“This is my gift to you.
I will bite on it, reversing the biblical sin
We were told about the apple.
I want you to paint my skin with the remaining half,
Like a canvas, as if it were Botticelli brushing his Madonnas.”

He picked the freshly bit succulent pulp
-at that point little did it matter
whether Sandro was born in 1445 or not-
And started to gently touch her.

Sweet juices were trickling down her body,
Following the outline of the wishbone, the roundness of the shoulders,
over the breasts and down her belly.
And one any of those streams,
The entire fleet of Black Beard
Could have sailed at large.