Rotten fruit will fall on its own.
No hand need pull it to the ground.
Plentiful harvest won’t be known.
Crows and maggots will feast around.
Silence echoes through barren trees.
Orchard dies like a quiet tune.
Death, decay carried on the breeze
beneath the summer sun of June.
I walk away–no vengeful thought,
letting nature take all the blame.
A lesson that karma has taught:
ripe and rot often taste the same.
Blight and mold thriving where it fell.
Flesh disappearing into dirt.
I need not cast a single spell
to ensure misery, more hurt.
Peace blooms now where my feet tread light.
Path I’m tending is mine alone.
Festering crop fades from my sight.
Blossoming into self I’ve sown.
Bitter fruit will wither and fade.
I grow tall, untasted, unsplayed.
About the Creator
Tina D. Lopez
A woman who writes to deal with hurt, mistakes--mine and others, and messy emotions. Telling my truth, from the heart, with no sugarcoating.
My book Love Ain’t No Friend of Mine is available on Amazon. https://a.co/d/6JYBmLH
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More stories from Tina D. Lopez and writers in Poets and other communities.
December 8, 1980
When I was six or seven, my stepdad came into my life, and I remember thinking he knew everything. He could befriend anybody, anywhere. In grocery stores, he chatted with strangers over cuts of meat; at gas stations, he bonded with people pumping fuel over how the smell of gasoline was disgusting and yet enjoyable. In restaurants, he took an interest in waiters’ lives—like Steve, whose father was dying of cancer. When Steve’s dad died, my new dad attended the funeral.
By Tina D. LopezExclusive • 2 months ago
Comments (2)
I think you nailed it! Clever rhymes and a solid message. And this line gave me pause: -A lesson that karma has taught: ripe and rot often taste the same.- 🤩
Beautiful naturalism. So much power behind the message.