Forlorn Oranges

Why won’t poets write about us? Is rhyming with orange that troubling? Don’t we, like other fruits need thus: To be showered with praises all bubbling? We have stunning looks and great taste But where are the poems and sonnets? We are saddened that no one makes haste To promote us on shirts or bonnets. We hate to complain about this, But it’s awful and gone on too long! It has come to a state of injustice And us oranges can’t “move on.” Will someone pen us a platitude, Or wax about orange’s great name? Or will cowards offer no gratitude And we linger on, having no fame. The next time you savor our juice Or peel our remarkable skins, We will pardon the years of abuse, If poets will pick up their pens!