My Fruit Stall

In the midst of the clamor of the commercial center's call,

Stands my modest slow down, embellished with organic products all,

A cornucopia of varieties, nature's best workmanship,

Each piece a demonstration of the world's liberal heart.

Underneath the covering, where daylight tenderly winds around,

I keep an eye on my abundance, where each organic product accepts,

In the commitment of readiness, in the pleasantness of time,

In the pattern of seasons, in nature's stupendous plan.

Here, strawberries become flushed with the sunrise's most memorable light,

Their ruby tones an ensemble, a stunning sight,

Close to them, oranges sparkle with a blazing shine,

Their lively smell moving, back and forth.

Apples, with their freshness, tell stories untold,

Of plantations in sprout, of stories yet unfurl,

While grapes, in their groups, murmur mysteries of old,

Of grape plantations and harvests, of stories untold.

Pomegranates, with their jeweled charm,

Hold inside them secrets, both antiquated and unadulterated,

Also, bananas, in their yellow clothing,

Carry grins to faces, light hearts with want.

So here I stand, in the midst of this natural fortune,

A steward of nature's abundance, an unassuming measure,

For in each organic product lies a story, a melody,

An indication of where we as a whole genuinely have a place.

Consequently, my organic product slow down stands, a demonstration of effortlessness,

A safe-haven of flavors, a sacrosanct space,

Where spirits accumulate, and stories interlace,

In this immortal dance of the heavenly.