In the
produce department,
A perfect apple
caught my eye,
No blemishes,
nothing amiss,
I thought, “Pesticides!
Oh, my!”
Around the
corner in another bin,
Organic apples
awaited hugs,
They were
far from perfect,
They’d been
chewed on by bugs,
What a
difference between the two,
The
beautiful shiny outside shell,
Or one blemished
just like me,
One that I understood,
oh, too well,
My skin
doesn’t have to please anyone,
I have
become organic but not good,
I’m filled with
unique qualities all my own,
My faults
don’t have to be understood,
And the real
me is worthy and valuable,
Not like the
apple that learned to pretend,
Shiny and perfect,
lying in the next bin,
Attracting
those who didn’t look within,
No poisons
were needed in my life,
I’m organic
as anyone can see,
No
artificial coatings protect me,
I’m just
happy learning to be me.
No comments:
Post a Comment