She stood there in the market square,
round and heavy, free from care.
Unashamed, she met the day
as curious hands passed her way.
Many came to press and see,
to test her weight and mystery.
They squeezed and lifted, paused to find
a fragrance rich, both sweet and kind.
Each touch revealed another part,
as though her worth were theirs to chart.
Her secrets, hidden one by one,
were slowly bared beneath the sun.
Yet still she waited, calm and still,
untouched within by others’ will.
For worth is never truly known
by those who wander, glance, and roam,
but by the one who sees her whole—
beyond her skin, beneath her soul;
who feels her quiet, steady grace
and takes her home to her true place.
And thus concludes the jackfruit’s tale—
a humble fruit, yet one that tells
how value isn’t found in many hands,
but in the heart that understands.
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