Don'T Fall Poem by Dan Brown

A fine spring day, in a park with a lake
and I stumbled across a bud.
It grew from a branch - desperate to break -
that couldn’t provide what it should.

It was a tender young thing – keen to grow,
but requiring a helping hand
to blossom with seeds of its own to sow
across a bright, new golden land.

I added love to the sunshine and rain
and nurtured the seedling with smiles.
Visiting often, I saw others slain
as the seasons played out their styles.

The elements lashed, but the fruit stood strong -
at least until that fateful day;
when the poison within it all along
could no longer be held at bay.

A delicate apple, caught by a gust,
rocking violently on the stem.
Begged not to let go yet thinks ‘I must,
for I’m an apple, not a gem.”

I watch in slow motion the tragic death
of the pome to which I gave birth.
A low, helpless sob is deemed its last breath
as it falls to be one with the earth.