The Hanging Apples on the tree;
They sit and stare, they stare at me.
I wish I could have but one taste;
For these apples are only going to waste.
I'll pick just one, just one, you'll see;
But I forgot nothing is made for free.
This is a sad story, that's how it's meant to be;
I didn't eat the Hanging Apple; the Hanging Apples ate me.
© Elizabeth White 2007
Summer Goth – Avoiding the Burning Orb
2 months ago