It is now my time to rot.
Fallen down from the tree
Well before I’m ready
And at the root of the plant
With those who had
Fallen before me.
My skin, so hydrated,
Now withers and turns to leather.
A simple bruise on my exterior
Lasts permanently.
A man has found the tree
And took a bite out of me.
He tore me apart from the core,
He tasted my insides and left them
Lying apart all over the weeds,
To be exposed and now decays.
A juice so sweet before
Now is as sour and bitter
As I grow older.
The tree now waits for the next winter,
To abandon its next apple
And leave it to fend for itself,
The same way it has for me,
And the cycle will continue,
The way it has for generations.