The poem begins with something small and physical: a peach held in the hand. The speaker calls the pleasure it gives "a sort of pleasure," a modest, slightly hedged phrase, as if the feeling is real but hard to pin down. Then comes the comparison that changes the poem. That pleasure is like the way a woman's mouth looks or moves when she talks about travel.
The leap from fruit to speech to faraway places is what makes the poem interesting. The peach is something you can hold, ripe and close. Her words reach toward somewhere distant, "another home world." The title, "Planetoid," quietly fits this. A peach is round like a small planet, and it sits in the palm like a world you can carry.
The mood is warm, tender, and a little dreamy. The speaker seems captivated by her, and by how her longing for distance makes the present moment feel richer. Nearness and far-off wonder meet in one quiet image.