The Tree of Life

When I was a young boy, I first tasted of your fallen fruits

And knew them as the bitter taste of life.

As an older man, I’ve tasted you again and once again:

The unripe fruits of harvest plucked too early for their years.

I sit and taste of you right now and wonder at your rind

And sit and wonder and sit and wonder when it will be my time.

The fruit crushed under foot

Ripened in the sun

A mealy paste forgotten

By all who walk above.