I pose in the heat every hour. Naked except for a flower. It feels such a waste, to have fruit worth the taste, for my needles make most people cower.

Allegedly born from a Bell, A mixed truth they tell. I aged and learned new things, leaving behind my strings. I pass your secrets unbroken, and speech never spoken.

I'm green then I'm brown. I start high and then fall down. My flesh thick, my milk sweet, My shell like concrete. My name ends wrong, I've been a fruit all along.

I wave without hands and without shame. My owner's identiity is my full name. I am often found hanging or flying, I work without even trying.

The more of things you borrow, the more of me you get. I'm collected tomorrow, my name is simply...