The persimmons high up on the branch

I walked through the countryside,
To my relative’s house, so fine.
To pick persimmons from a tall tree,
Their ripe fruit, a sight to see.

I brought a long skewer, to do the job,
But no matter how hard, I couldn’t grab.
The persimmons high up on the branch,
Out of reach, I couldn’t help but glance.

I shook the tree, with all my might,
Hoping the fruit would fall just right.
But alas, they fell to the ground,
Food for birds, not to be found.

I returned home, with disappointment,
My empty basket, a symbol of the torment.
A failed trip, though memories I’ll keep,
Of the autumn countryside, so serene.

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