There is an originating plum
with tasty flesh, that teeth can't bare to hide,
all are cut in sections,
neatly assembled
ready for the scrum.

Set out on ingestion,
each thought kicked around,
they go in formation,
massive bodies closely bound.

There will be no agreement,
on bitter sweet,
there will only be the score,
we lost, we won,
we loved
the fight!

Tasty is the plum,
as it passed around...

http://www.robross.ca