Memories oft’ become most bitter fruit
When sweet taste of past ‘tis pleasing no more
A once succulent vine now becomes moot
Decaying peaches lie scattered ‘cross floor
The delicate cherry unmatched in taste
A robust apple with tenacious core
We’ve aged together in unbridled haste
His hand once athletic exists no more
Low hanging fruit of high expectations
Collected whilst young and consumed with glee
Fading images…spoiled mutations
Plum quickly turns glum when plucked from the tree
Sad, self-pitying anachronism
Now harvesting through my bygone days' prism
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