The Apple.

The apple that fell from the sky
Rolled a bit to surprise 
The little things went by 
In between the yellow and pink lie
A little poem to another sing
Untold the good much untold
All that came and went by wing 
Exchange by hand vow and gold
It began with the apple said to note
None now standing exist but by wit
Script was gold words carried wrote
The thought of the fruit uneaten bit
The other muddy red branch touches
About balancing its leafy ledges of fall
Orange with swirling colors bunch’s 
Hold to the coming baskets call.
Daniel A McMahon.


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