every fruit has fallen
branches bent beneath their weight
sagging with the memories of what once was

every fruit reaches the lips of another
sweetness trickles down their chin
devouring each bite with fervor

every fruit is gone as quick as it came
sticky remnants rubbed away from skin
ridding any memory of what once was

they return to her roots
desperately waiting for her branches to dip
with evidence of her labors

only to consume and
feel refreshed
as she withers away

My desire was forbidden
The fruit on the tree
I was told that the fruit on that tree was too good to be eaten by someone like me
I reached up anyway and picked the forbidden fruit from that tree
I unapologetically bit into it to find out that it was so ******* sweet that I dropped to my knees and let the sensations to follow take over me
As its sweetness had casted a spell on my body people told me of its sin
I could never understand why what was so sweet to me could be considered bitter and rotten by those who claimed they only want what is best for me
Perhaps they are scared, and it has kept them from trying it
Perhaps I’ve known so much bitter that I had been dying to have it

In lue of a sun
The rises in a triangle
A piece of fruit
Over the simu Himalayas
Harolding
The day
And
The best time
For pictures.

Is there joy
in noticing the details of experience?
For example:
When I encounter a flowering tree
I enjoy noticing
all the colours, shapes, sizes and textures
of every flower,
every leaf,
every fruit,
every branch,
and the bark of the trunk too;
Then I have enjoyed
experiencing the flowering tree!