Frederick Francis


An Apple


I am but an apple
Hung upon a graceful bow
Of an apple tree.

I am not a silly apple
I do not pretend
I am the only apple.

I know I will grow ripe
The winds of the world
Will tug at me.

The tree will tire of me
Dropping me to the ground
Bruised among the others.

I will rot on the ground
Only to find my self
Once more an apple.


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Submitted: Saturday, March 22, 2008

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