“Two berries, both cherries, hanging from a branch, it’s not much, but it’s a start” Gun Roswell 

Two cherries 

There are two of them left, just there, hanging by themselves, after all the others have gone, eaten perhaps or thrown off by gusts too strong, the rest plucked by birds, just for the off chances of fun.

But the two of there remain, looking exactly the same, as in the very beginning, remaining still there even if the high rain came, the two keep on, the colour never changing, always the brightest of red.

Nobody even thinking of picking them off anymore, simply letting the two berries to stay put there, as if they should, the reason unknown, guess it’s just because the all want to keep the myth alive, at least for a while.