Wonderful and Wasted

A lament of wasted... you be the judge. Sometimes the echoes of our lives can be seen in the simplest things.

She was, quite simply, beautiful--
so young and plump and perky,
with smoothest skin and rosy cheeks
that flanked her broad, sweet smile.
Freshly picked and ready now
to go out into the world,
she had such hopes and dreams,
so many longings and ambitions!
"What will I become?" she wondered.
"And just where will I wind up?
What glorious things await me
in this whirlwind crazy world?"
Such trust she'd placed within the hands
of the one who'd brought her up,
she trusted now the hands he chose
to charge with her good keeping.
"A little green around the edges,"
she had overheard him say
as she was swiftly set apart
upon the windowsill to ripen.
"You're so special!" "Wonderful."
"Just what I've waited for."
"Like nothing else I've ever seen!"
"Amazing!" "Almost perfect."
He gasped, in awe, with such delight;
he couldn't wait to have her.
She became his queen of someday--
the waiting prize for his "not yet."
Soon eager, ripe and ready,
She waited, set for him to come.
She wanted to be chosen,
She longed to finally be the one.
Time passed and passed and passed some more,
then one sad day she knew--
Her perfect time had come and gone,
and her prime was now behind her.
Still beautiful and wonderful,
with so much still left to offer,
so proudly sat those rosy cheeks
that now flanked her sinking smile.
So busy, he lost track of time--
too many irons in his fire.
"Just one more day," he said again;
he thought that she would keep.
He couldn't tell by just a glance
that her beauty was a sham.
It was not clear to anyone
that she'd begun to fall apart.
When finally he was ready,
and he went to reach for her,
her shell was proudly waiting there,
but with nothing left of her.
She had rotted from within.
She was beautiful, but forgotten,
so special and so squandered,
she was wonderful and wasted.
She would have made the finest sauce,
or the most amazing BLT,
she might have been the crowning glory
for salads, salsas, or kebobs.
His regrets do not revive her.
He can't unwaste her yumminess.
He can only learn from his mistakes,
and do right by what comes next.

Author's Note

A beautiful, perfect homegrown tomato rotted on my kitchen table this week. It was eagerly awaited, saved as the "best for last", and then lost. This poem is the result of that disappointment (with shadows and parallel's of life's disappointments thrown in.)

Reviews

[Gaia Octavia]

You know, I really like this. I like the little hidden gems of imagery like "swiftly set apart
upon the windowsill to ripen" (one can almost picture a young girl feeling this way too) and "her shell was proudly waiting there, but with nothing left of her." While it becomes clear that a tomato is the object that is lost, I pictured the Cicada shells I used to collect in a bucket as a child (yuck I know); perfect representations of what was no longer there. Well done.

[Tricia Pattinson]

Wonderful Carpe Diem poem! I love the story and the lessons You've written a masterpiece!

[Ashira Macy]

Brilliant job on this, I liked that you kept us in the dark about exactly what kind of fruit she was until the ending, and the personification was excellent. You could very well have been talking about a man's mistress. "I'll leave my wife for you. I love you, just give me a little more time." Brilliant work, this was a pleasure to read!

[Wolfwind]

Fruit is manys best friend and worst nemesis! I love this piece! Really well thought out and it carried a wonderful level of curiosity and suspense until the end at which point the seeds of the matter fell upon the table! Awesomeness!

Much enjoyed,
Wolfwind

[Taurean X Hunter]

This poem was so wonderful, and I love the metaphors used to describe that plump tomato. I love to cook and I know the feeling of seeing juicy tomato starting to rot. You really do think about the all the recipes that lovely fruit could of been apart of! I love it great poem!