Except they weren't plums, they were peaches

The me from 11pm last night would like to dedicate this poem to the me at 8am this morning. The idea of them with cream was just too much for me and I couldn't resist. I hope the me of Saturday morning can find peaches at the farmers market enough for us all. Again, I'm sorry.
Love,
Me

This is Just To Say
by William Carlos Williams

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

And which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

Some of the peaches at the farmers market are considerably larger than others, but all of them are so delicious. I don't want peach season to ever end.