Fat Tomatoes

Ye should be happy, plant with flowers bright,
But riches crave you, for to swell and fatten.
First jealous green, the baubles, bathed in light,
Then gorged slow, full blood red, with skin o’ satin.
This richness, slowly grown, will do you ill…
Aye, show your blood red treasure, bend the stem.
‘Tis fine to bathe in’t sun so fat until
The eyes o’ hungry beasts spy your red gem…
Whether it’s the insects come to feed
And leave pock marks to spoil the skin’s perfection…
Or p’raps a bird, with poking beak for seed,
To leave a mess o’ clumsy raw dissection.
Or maybe, ripe tomato t’will be mine…
To cut and spill the juice – oh flesh divine…

(Inspired by trying to grow some damn tomatoes)

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Fat Tomatoes

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