UN..
My hard earned fruit of labor,
Lay on the thoroughfare,
Unfinished, unrelished, wasted,
Wishes unfulfilled, untasted.
Nature, un-pitifully went about its business,
Showing me the colors as if nothing happened,
Once the center of the world,
I Lay among the fallen leaves, untouched and curled.
It Is not as sad as I make it sound,
I am out enjoying the colors of fall,
Which is red, yellow, orange in the face,
Seeing me amidst it, ignoring my labors grace.
My senses are my fruits of labor,
Let each one of them experience the chill,
The colors, the breeze, the music, the thrill,
Let the fruit lay on the thoroughfare, un-relished, un-fulfilled.
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