A pomelo sits, Cold, forgotten Alone in the recesses Of a dark fridge – Bought on a whim Forgotten with an exotic cheese Left to slowly over ripen Never considered otherwise – Its sour juices Shall pique no taste buds Nor will its pulp Gather on a glass rim – Light flashes and doors open …
Mourning a life not yet lived, Of days ahead A cup filled to the brim Then left on the bar – Mourning a life that could have been, Friends met and lovers had Uproarious laughter Giggled for no ears – Mourning decisions past Right or wrong Good or bad Forced exit ramps taken – Celebrating …