Poetry of a Conlanger

Friday, May 27, 2005

If Time Were a Tomato

If time were a tomato,
I wouldn’t chop it up and put it in a salad.
I’d cradle it gently,
Resisting the urge to bite in until the
Last possible moment.
And when I did bite in,
I’d savor it, this tomato.
One bite at a time.
No salt, either. Just plain tomato.
And when all this time,
So cleverly disguised as a tomato,
Was gone,
I’d wonder where it went,

And if I’d ever get another tomato of a chance.


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