If I were like air then I'd breathe you.
As I sit in the the bowl and observe.
I'd never succeed in the quest that I'm freed.
I'll rot though, if I had the nerve.

Just take me and pick as I ripen.
Bite me, as nectar escapes to your chin.
Enraptured by spell to entice you again.
And feast on sweet secrets within.

But leave me and pass with your ignorance.
Overlooked as I signal my true end of days.
For I will repay you with sorrow.
As my beauty fades, waving farewell decays.