Ode à mes tomates vertes

My tomatoes are green and fall is around the corner
If they don't turn red soon I'll transition to mourner
They've been watered and fed and bathed in sunlight
But they still hang all green and skin far too tight

I perused my fair fruit today in the cool showers
They sagged and seemed hearty but too filled with flowers
It's too late, I cried, too late for new blooms
The sun is leaving, bringing on the monsoons

Oh, my poor tomatoes, so young and naive
It was I, the planter, who had to believe
That these tiny little plants, so small, so frail
Could one day turn plump and fill a full pail

But, alas, it's nearly fall and all I can see
Is green, verte, grün, staring right back at me
So, here's to mes tomates vertes on the vine
On your juicy, red bodies I wish I could dine