The Fruit That Will Rot Alone

Current Mood:  Cold

Pluck the fruit from the vine

Looks so beautiful and fine

Not too callow, and not too ripe;

Wet and sparkling with dew

A berry plucked, not too soon.

Once removing this great fruit,

You find another all alone

A different shade, all its own

Much smaller and less appealing

But inside you, it spawns a feeling:

Surrounded by such luscious flowers

Abandoned and forlorn it will cower

This fruit will rot alone