It was my turn to pick the apples,

So I went upon my way

Surveying their lovely cerise flesh

Throughout my livelong day.

Funny thing how their bright red,

Though such a vibrant hue,

Did cast such a spell upon me

That I fell upon the dew.

Nine full hours transpired

During which time I

Must have fallen into slumber

Beneath a starless sky. 

And when at last I did awake

The orchard’s trees were bare

Leaving me to hope for better times

With lovely blossoms there.


On this week’s POET’S PUB , we try to celebrate the color red.



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9 thoughts on “Apples

  1. sarahsouthwest says:

    Every autumn i drive past a tree that has bright red apples, hanging over the road. Nobody ever picks them. You made me think of that. This poem made me think of lost opportunities, but then it ended on a moment of hope.

    Liked by 1 person

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