XAVERIAN'S CORNER

Apples
Rollence Chiusinco (H4B), Stallion Literary Writer

Posted Thursday, 02-Mar-2006 10:23 AM

A stall is raised.

The wares? Apples.

Apples.

Taken from all but the meanest of fathers.

The display glistens

Red apple, green apple.

Genetically modified.

Fresh. Preserved. Premium.

All to pick.

Then those who come by,

attracted by the gleam.

They negotiate.

They small talk. They purchase.

And they leave and the memory

Is dropped from the mind.

Not without the core left in the dirt.

Or perhaps, the fruit's poison doctors the buyer,

And the froth arises

From nubile lips.

However, the muck punishes not, but embraces

As like the rose, and

Heaven's hour arise bud,

tree, and growth.

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