Plump

Plump as a ripe Victoria sponge,
soft‑rounded cheeks that blush at tea,
a round‑bellied tabby curled in sun,
her purr a low, content‑filled hum.

In the orchard, damsons hang,
their dusky skins a plump delight—
each bite releases tart‑sweet juice,
a burst of summer’s generous bite.

So celebrate the gentle swell,
the warmth that lives in curves and grace,
for plump is not merely size,
but kindness wrapped in fond embrace.