The second of the poems I found from my exchange trip to Kenya, aka a 14 yo's experimentation with metaphor:
The banana tree, standing there in its splendour
Its leaves green,
Its trunk tall,
Its bananas, ripening ready for the picking.
But not many people see the wilting
When its leaves go brown
They don't realise the tree's subjects aren't truly living
As they should do
They don't realise the tree's subjects are wilting
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