Precious Cherries
a poem about acceptance of decay
The cherries on the ground, wait for the day to decay fully. Watching me watch the sun impulsively.
Like an addict to melanine and warmth, to Vitamine D and hugs.
The cherries on the ground, with their wholes of rot accompanied by walking friends.
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Sometimes visited by flying ones. If the cherries would talk, they would ask what the reason is that they are laying there to decay.
The cherries on the ground, wanted to be picked. They should have been blended to sap to drink.
On a hot day or with a nice hot meal. The cherries on the ground are now for other beings.
Healthy sweets to me and nutrient to them. I will be enjoying the suns hug, while they share the sugar emitting.
