Poem 03

 This was also posted in Writer’s Cafe where I am known as either Vela June or Aira Isane (my old pen name).

Spiced Apple Lost in the Acres

Uninjured green apple of the weaved brown basket,
it sits upon the cold surface of the wooden casket.

A regular resident of the white-walled room,
faceless amongst the crowd of red cousins,
forgotten amidst its yellow friends of sheer number.

It topples over its awaited escape-
Escape from the groping hands.
Thud. Thud.
Landing on its calyx, blossom end,
it looks about its new environment.
Fiddling, fumbling, off its course.
Boring beige of the soft carpeted floor, you’ve got a new visitor.

Green apple of the weaved brown basket,
skin once lacking bruise, now totally scathed.

© since 2011/2012

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