Until The End Has Been Found Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Until the end has been found
Let the flames beam the sky
All comes again here around
In the reasons you ask why
Time’s like an apple that's red
Round and round in its beauty
Everything from its inside head
Every nibble for you to see

You be the picker of the best
Freshest fruits you'll ever know
Every footstep in its crest
Like the breeze that is to flow
Be its queen or its king
Every moment pickier bring
Like apples that are shining
And the birds that to them sing

There’s love in remembered dreams
None in those that is gone
Yellow and the red apple stems
To give its taste to everyone
Fruits of love in each their taste
Love of hope that’s to realize
Nothing to pretend - for that's waste
Nothing to stand for in its cries