Ripe

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.

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