They say things get
better with time

Great works of art
perhaps people

There’s a fig tree
near my house

I pick the ripe green
figs that are soft

I leave the old ones
leathery and brown

But yesterday
I took one anyway

When I got home
I split open its tough skin

And inside was the
sweetest fruit of all.

Often the old ones,
the wise ones

Are the ones
with the sweetest fruit

We should know this
as we go about our lives