Fruitless Longing

When Envy Ripens, Joy Rots

In a world of vibrant fruits, each one carries its own charm. But when they start comparing, joy fades. This poem explores how envy turns abundance into absence—and how longing to be anything else steals the sweetness of being.

The apple stared at mango’s sun,

Wishing she had sweeter fun—

“Golden glow and tropic flair,

I’m just red with standard air.”

The mango envied pear’s sleek curve,

So calm, so cool, with quiet nerve—

“I’m too bold and always seen,

I’d trade it all to just be clean.”

The pear then sighed toward purple plum,

“So mysterious, lips go numb—

I’m too soft and awkward wide,

Why can’t I hold my stem with pride?”

But plum, in turn, craved orange’s zest,

That tang of thrill in every chest—

“I’m too quiet, dim, and still,

Wish I had that citrus thrill.”

Orange looked at banana’s ease,

How she peeled with such a breeze—

“Everyone finds comfort there,

Me? Just spritz and acid glare.”

The banana longed for apple’s shine,

A classic bite, a glossy sign—

“I’m too plain, too oft ignored,

Wish I were the fruit adored.”

And so they looped in envy’s chain,

Each one longing through a pane—

For something else, some other skin,

Forgetting all the joy within.

Till apple looked and softly sighed,

“I guess I never truly tried

To love the crunch, the red, the core—

I was the fruit they longed for.”