A Cabbage's Desire

A desire poem from a cabbage who wants to be a favourite food.

I sit upon the stall, watching them all
as they pass by and look at the display
picking up my companions to feel.
I sit and flourish in the hope that they
will see me as a specimen of health.
Opposite the sweet stall gleams temptingly
adorning brightly coloured jackets
and lots of fancy interesting names.
People munching relishing the delight
of creamy and sugary, wonderful,
yummy, sticky dark brown chocolate goo.
If I was a thick-coated Mars bar or an
orange centred Crunchie, I am sure you would
love me but I am a long way from that.
I am beautiful in smart green leaves but
from me they recoil with utter revulsion.
Not being a favourite is not very fair.