One fruit I LOVE for sust'nance, Is long and curved, starts, green. Then changes to a yellow When, ripe for eating, seen. Acquaintances, I do have, Who, when-one black mark, on skin, Is seen on their banana, Will throw into the bin. I know this person's mother, A older gal, retired, So I made a comparison To make my point desired. Told her, some folk get 'age marks' When older, they become, Though doesn't mean their useless Still have a heart, and some. So when those 'marked' bananas Were ready for her trash, Kept them for me, for eating, It sure saved me, some cash.
As the youngest sibling All six of us dear boys, Many 'hand-me-downs' received From clothes, and even toys. When last three, with our parents, A country drive, would go, The two above me, they did get A seat by the window. So I was stuck in middle, I wasn't giv'n a choice, I yearned to b'able to have one, But couldn't, my say, voice. So 'piggy in the middle' For aye, it seemed, was I, Even at home, on sofa, To complain, dare not I. Now older, with more 'say so' I actually prefer The mid seat, car or sofa, A sense of safety, there.