he was my ruby apple
all ready for the tasting
so perfect, not a blemish
nothing to be wasting.
round, rosy, smoothly shiny,
firm and with skin intact,
the very biting into..
would be a delicious act.
i took him in my loving hands
and turned him round and round
looking at his loveliness
thankful for what i'd found,
and bit into his luscious flesh,
the juice ran down my chin
but i was shocked and unprepared
for the rot that lay within,
the maggots - they were feasting
upon his heart so cold,
others had got there before me
and evil taken hold.
he was not mine, 'twas all a dream,
he'd led me a merry dance.
superficial beauty, sure,
truth and goodness - not a chance!
next time i pick an apple
with my knife i'll cut in two
i'll look for purity of heart
dishonesty won't do.
i'll take no notice of the shine
or the condition of the skin
what'll matter most to me next time
is what really lies within.
rachael richmond
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-apple-2/
