Ripe for the plucking, they say.
Well, this fruit was overripe.
No one needed even reach out a hand.
All one had to do was wait around
(not even really wait, just be there).
And it would fall, if not dive, into their hand.
And this fruit plummeted.
And landed in the hands of one who was barely hungry but curious enough.
The fruit was luscious, it could not be denied.
It released all its colours and flavours at the slightest nip.
But curiosity lacks the buds of hunger and never tastes with the same ardour.
Still that one ate and enjoyed, all but the core.
Though it was known it was the best part, it tended to leave stains.
That one left the core to the birds or the dogs or whomever.


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