The budding fruit hangs

Next to a ripe fruit

On the orange tree.

A strong wind blows,

The budding fruit falls,

Swallowed up by the cold ground.  

Oh, the ripe fruit laments,

The potential lost,

All the things it could have become.

Oh, the inequity of life,

That favors one over another for

Reasons that cannot be seen.

The budding fruit that once could have been

Exists no more.

It has been forgotten

As another budding fruit will

Fall from the tree.

And another budding fruit will

Fall from the tree.