Slices of fruit, in colours yellow and red,
a sight so appetising to behold.
Fruits of goodness before our eyes are laid,
waiting to be picked, eagerly from the bowl.
A platter of fruit, neatly cut, arranged,
we see in them occasion for relief.
After a meal, we seek a welcome change,
sweet and tasty, cool respite they give.
And yet we see not all the toil and labour
that was put in through many months before,
From ploughing, sowing, transplanting with much fervour,
through weeding, pruning, watering and more.
Then harvesting, packing, transporting from the farm,
until they reach the grocer, our friendly neighbour.
In neat and tidy crates, they're such a charm,
that we forget they are the fruit of labour.
20191206 1613 hr - 2225 hr
#Poetry #PoetryByHaroldHuang
Fruit of labour
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