The fruit is rotting
I can see my hands past the core
Seeds trickle through my fingers
I can’t go back to the store
It is closing at midnight and it is half-past when I was okay
I just want to see tomorrow in its glory
Fifty cents in my pocket gets me nowhere but a reminder of the fruit seeds
Of what could have flourished into trees
Baring fruits that fill my needs
But the seeds are metal tokens clanking in my pocket full of holes
Never growing into home
I do not have water to nourish them
Or the ground to bury them
I can wait
I cannot wait
Guess I will wait
For spring