You, come here and learn wisdom with me.
Sitting by the gently rippling pool.
A bowl of cherries from the cherry tree.
Balanced on the sturdy wicker stool.
Look at the cherries, pleasant to the eye.
Sweet and aromatic to the nose.
Tart and sweet with pits of cyanide.
A poison pill to swallow if you chose.
And you thought the tree would give me lemons,
Like I haven\'t drunken all my fill.
I\'d rather it give me something sweet like melons.
Or small and sweet berries, better still.
But never comes the sweet without the sour.
A balance that will never ever vary.
And sweetness can a poison seed devour.
Life is but a simple bowl of cherries.