By Alexander Polo The orange was once ripe,The one in your basket;You’ve left it for too long,No one wants to pick it.Its layers were once godly,Its juice is deprived, constrained;What was once sweet’s now acid,Nobody wants to be drained.There were days with chances to blend,There were ways to provide what’s prized;They could’ve meshed within your … Continue reading The Orange Was Once Ripe
