We really combine things when ripe
Like a mango smelling to be eaten.
A soft fragrance fills the air like flies
Tickling a nose to make it come alive.
The room is now open for ripeness
With another old man fresh to poetry,
A conspiratorial silence by the world,
As he will turn a golden fruit in the air
Tantalizingly hung on a windy night.
Open the door , will you, and close it
For God’s sake, feel a room’s ripening
As a fruit gathers ripeness in the box.
The room will ripen to a golden silence
Filled with fruitful discovery and joy.