Love, Preserving Poem by Mark Heathcote

Loves a fruit that requires preserving
if stored, in an equable larder
that isn't hot-tempered isn't fluctuating
hot then cold - might even keep its ardour
spring meandering into another lifetime
especially if not bruised mishandled
if it's cared for - can see out wintertime
enchanted, sweetened, heart gladdened.
But those that are badly handled just-won't-last
and sadly, they will perish as soon as not.
Leaving all your hopes and plans dashed
and that preserved loved fruit will rot
somewhere cankers will set-in take hold
and all you've cherished shall take on mould.