Basket of Berries
When I was a peach
they stood in line to split me.
My sweetness spangled their chins.
When I was champagne,
they stood in line to toast me.
My slipper overflowed their little brains.
When I was a basket of berries
they fought like cats to juice me,
to suckle up a fool's Cointreau.
Now that I'm a stone
it's logical they've left me;
they didn't come to build, after all.
Images: Chandon Cremant Imperial, by Alphonse Mucha
Public Domain, via wikipaintings.org
Calanais Stones, by Kelvyn Skee , on flick'r