The Fallen Apple
The Apple drops high from a tree, what words are said can truly not be.
The truth I hear is truly real, but I only hope I'll be saved by the hill.
Yet the hill comes up and I roll down, right into the river I'll most likely drown.
The water is cold and I bob to the surface, breaking the layer of water with merciless dare.
Here I am floating along, and I only wish I could sing a song.
But yet i can't because I have no mouth, because here I am floating down south.
A hand reaches in and pulls me out, forever I will remember without a doubt.
He pick me up and sets me there, looking at me with true flair.
A tray of paints and an easel is set, now he's ready to make a bet.
They place their bets and I'm fair game, although I have never felt pain.
Cutting me open and peeling my skin, sweet juicy fruit is held within.
Splitting me up into eight little pieces they take the seeds and plant them high, with the sun and water I never die.
Soon my appearance changes into a tree, bigger and bigger I steadily flee.
The leaves on my branches fall to the ground.
The snow starts falling and winter comes around.
Next spring shows its bright colors.
The flowers blossom and the sun comes out.
My branches are heavy and the apples turn red.
The mood quickly changes into anything but dread.
Children come up and take one of my apples.
But soon they stop, because instead they eat grapples.
The apple drops high from a tree, I once was an apple but now I'm a tree.
Copyright 2010- Property of Akorn
