Poem -

The fruit of love

Finding love when you're getting old is like selling a fruit that can't be sold.
 

Left on the shelf to rot away, the price has been reduced but still no one pays.

 

But within that fruit, beyond the bruises and the rot is a beautiful heart that could give you alot.

​​​​​​For every bash and every bruise, there's a story they didn't choose.

 

So don't always judge what's been left on the shelf, your words and your time might heal that fruits health.

 

No longer a fruit thats rotting away, it's now healthy for you and one of your 5 for the day.

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