COVETED FRUIT

A red ripe fruit; perhaps peach, or better apple, no, it could be mango;
One ready to be harvested;
Many are the fruits that hang from the other branches, this captures attention;
A seasoned fruit; succulent and perhaps tasty;
My fingers reach out to pluck it from the branch;
I stretch further to feel its smooth peel;
A fruit so beautiful, one that could satisfy….

My fingers gently graze its surface; confirms my earlier thoughts;
So tender, seasoned but firmly on the branch;
Its beauty leaves me in awe and desire;
I don’t want to grab it from the branch it holds so dear;
I wish to pluck it in the gentlest way

Alas……….

Around the fruit tree are gathered other fruit harvesters; armed with their tools;
Tools so accurate, closer to my beloved fruit than my hands;
Their eyes on my treasure and are likely to reach it before me;
But I can’t use the steel equipment to graze its peel;
I wish to use my hands, my gentle hands to appreciate its texture…
Before plucking it……………….

As my desired fruit hangs tight to its branch, not wishing to let go

So does apple of my eye in real life
I wish to reach out to draw him closer to me;
But he holds to his past so tightly and is not ready to let my hand reach out for him;
Around me are many admirers; many of who have better argument than mine;
However, what I feel for him ties me down;
It’s a feeling gentle and free; doesn’t want to hurt or graze his heart;
Not ready to force him to me;

Just like the fruit, that I stretch out my hand and hope to feel its texture;
I will stretch out my arms and wait for him to come to me;
If he falls in the arms of another;
He will be like my beautiful fruit in the basket of another harvester,,

This is the price to pay for loving a “coveted fruit”