Ripened Fruit (POEM)

 

Do you see that?

So firm and tempting,

Mouthwatering,

Held by a stem.

Do not touch it.

For it is not ripe.

Not tender,

To hard bite.

Wait.

It will come.

Release itself.

Share its secrets.

Give its delights.

For it is the fruit.

The inspiration.

That denies,

your aspirations,

to be the first taster.

Of her sweet

untouched

liquid ambrosia.

 


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