What you are, I can’t decide;
Your very core, concealed inside,
Skin so thick, as nature made so;
Where do you fit? Not even you know.
Your seed bears life, yet instead it is savoured;
Bound by ties and restraints? Consider them wavered.
For why tick the box, when there are circles and stars?
Just as boys play with dolls, girls like guitars.
No bother then, if you are fruit or foe;
You taste good to me, and that’s all there is to know.
Prompt #3: Write a poem about a tomato