Guilty

Yes I’m guilty

Of forcing your

Roundness into the

Square hole of

Me guilty of

Concocting a dream

Of us and

Happily ever after

When the truth

Of you withered

On the vine

Like ignored and

Passed over fruit

Left to rot

In reality’s sun

Back to planting

I will tend

To my orchard

The next time

Around bringing home

Next years harvest