Poem -

The fruit of love

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

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

Β 

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.

Β 

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

Β 

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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