A boy walks by a fruit stand

His heart full where his stomach empty

He wound his fingers round an orange,

And imagined the sweet, simple taste,

A fruit so small to the merchant,

Was a round delicacy to the boy.

A man walks by a fruit stand,

Money dripping at his heels,

He cared not for simple things,

Like fruit stands on wheels,

But the boy’s face burned into the man’s mind,

And for the first time,

The man bought an orange.