The fruit

 

Hanging from the tree

waiting for my fall

one blow of wind

and, it will be all

waited all my life

gave, all I had

no one relished me

am I so bad?

Now, who will remember

how was my taste

effort of my life

all will be waste

If, that´s my end

why was I born

smashed to the soil

I will be gone

but, why am I bothered

I nurtured a soul

keeping seed inside me

I played my role

Again from the soil

will rise the shoots

seed will become tree

and, tree will bear the fruits.