My truth is unripe fruit,
the story that I keep waiting to arrive,
and while I’ve been worried before,
ideas blossom later each season.
The novel buried underneath rewritten pages
in a wooden crate on the bottom shelf.
Should I let my vision rot in peace?
This summer that I’ve waited for, this perfect peach,
but when I close my eyes, lean in to take a bite,
I realize I’m the one still ripening.
©2023 | K.F. Hartless
Cover Art: Green Fruit Painting Nada Sucur Jovanovic





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