Here's another poem that was begging to be written. I've had some experience with infatuation. It usually doesn't come to a good end.

INFATUATION

Infatuation
Is like the promise
Of a baby apple growing slowly
On the branch
Green and so full of life.
Doing what nature intended
Growing and getting bigger
Day by day
And as time goes on
A blush of red begins to appear
On the surface…so tempting,
So tempting.

Infatuation,
If allowed to grow
Often ripens into love:
Sweet, juicy, succulent,
And nourishing.
The problem is
We tend to pick
Our infatuations
Before they are ripe
And so they may look lovely,
But inside is nothing of substance.
If we bite
It is sour and hard in the mouth
And instead of providing sustenance
Leaves us unwell and upset
With a messy outcome.

-Chip Bergeron
16 June, 2013