Fallen Fruit

I wrote this in response to a suggestion on Facebook. It took a dark turn but I’m quite pleased that I kept the rhyme going!

She sat there on the tattered couch, a somewhat
jaded figure, nursing an emotional numb spot
around her parents’ fall. Her mum got
struck by lightning and some son-of-a-gun chopped
down her dad so now there’s only one lot
of the family left. In the sun’s hot
rays she felt herself become what
she’d tried so hard to hide from. Not
any longer joined but, like a plum dropped
from its tree, an orphaned kumquat.

Rich Clarkson, February 2021