The fruits of the tree
How is it that to the side of the road,
This singular apple has wandered?
Where are his brethren?
And dare I ask, is he lonely?
I picked him up,
But haven’t we all been taught that abandoned fruit is unholy?
I left him there,
I must say,
And though his flesh looked sweet,
I condemned him to a fate of wasting away,
A lone traveler lost
By the side of the street,
A wayward grocery
Left to rot in the oppressive heat.