Fat Tomatoes

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

(Inspired by trying to grow some damn tomatoes)

Fat Tomatoes

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