The Passion Fruit

There stood a tree Bare and alone Many storms had left it torn. The branches wept The leaves were gone No more birds sang their song. But far above Their hung a fruit Passion drenched through the roots It hung forlorn, barely connected Many passersby’s assumed it was defected. But then one day A man walked by Fascinated, he let out a sigh Where did it come from? Surely it did not fit in here How was it being nourished in all this gloomy fear? He held it in the palm of his hand And smelled it’s ripeness, longing for it to land But as he pushed it to his lips It began to drip, drip, and drip The essence of its juice made his hands begin to bleed For it was a forbidden fruit he had to leave Baffled by his reaction To this ravishing satisfaction Startled by this moment of unusual pleasure He knew in his heart he had to leave it forever. He wiped his hands on that verboten tree And mournfully knew he had to let that fruit be. By Sabina Nicole