Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2024
I recall sitting at that wooden table,
The grain memorized by my fingertips.
I took a bite of a fruit once ripe,
Yet no longer and I began to gag.
For decades, I’d slander this slender snack,
Giving anything but a chance;
Yet today, somewhere new,
Surrounded by berries,
It happened to be my favorite part.
Written by
pleblderblerbmerbcschrb  23/fatigue
(23/fatigue)   
91
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems