The Passion Fruit
There stood a tree
Bare and alone
Many storms had left it torn.
The branches wept
The leaves were gone
No more birds sang their song.
But far above
Their hung a fruit
Passion drenched through the roots
It hung forlorn, barely connected
Many passersby’s assumed it was defected.
But then one day
A man walked by
Fascinated, he let out a sigh
Where did it come from?
Surely it did not fit in here
How was it being nourished in all this gloomy fear?
He held it in the palm of his hand
And smelled it’s ripeness, longing for it to land
But as he pushed it to his lips
It began to drip, drip, and drip
The essence of its juice made his hands begin to bleed
For it was a forbidden fruit he had to leave
Baffled by his reaction
To this ravishing satisfaction
Startled by this moment of unusual pleasure
He knew in his heart he had to leave it forever.
He wiped his hands on that verboten tree
And mournfully knew he had to let that fruit be.
By Sabina Nicole
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