Smokey brought this poem to Stitch-In last night. I wish I had had this to read to my cousin before she left yesterday (…at 3am. We drove her to the bus stop to send her home. Her underage, alcoholic boyfriend was getting drunk and abusing her. Long story… Let’s just say he needs a lot of stomping.)
Women are like apples on trees. The best ones are at the top of the tree.
Most men don’t want to reach for the good ones because they are afraid of falling and getting hurt. Instead, they just get the rotten apples from the ground that aren’t as good, but easy…
So the apples at the top think something is wrong with them, when in reality, they’re amazing. They just have to wait for the right man to come along, the one who’s brave enough to climb all the way to the top of the tree.
And men… Men are like a fine wine. They start out as grapes, and it’s up to women to stomp the crap out of them until they turn into something acceptable to have dinner with.