On the way home from my part-time job, in the supermarket's storefront "Special Sale" corner.
Yet I found those imperfect, pale-blue fruits.
In a clear pack, look, it's heaped high.
"It's cramped! Help me!" It seems to be saying.
Playfully, I gently poke at it.
Suddenly, I'm perplexed by the sweet scent.
The face of that girl who cried.
I remembered that tiny fruit, so fragile it seemed it might be crushed.
From the pack, I pick out four of the bluest ones and line them up.
They look sour, these uneven fruits; I smile as I gaze at them.
They roll along, I wonder where they'll go?
Totally scattered, doing as they please, yet it seems fun.
The look on your face when you're plotting mischief.
You get the most serious, don't you? It's funny.
If it slowly reddens, that would be nice.
Gather here, cute little fruits, dripping with water.
In a clear pack, look-it's heaped high.
"I'm bored! Let's play!" it sounded like that's what it was saying.
Playfully, I gently poke at it.
Suddenly, I'm perplexed by the sweet smell.
If it slowly becomes red, that would be nice.
And gather here, little fruits with innocent color.