They lay bruised
And battered
Fallen apples
From the tree
Wounded
And hurt
Much like you
And me.
Windfalls unwanted
Save by
Hungry horses
And worms
Carrying scars
Unpicked and forlorn.
In grassy carpet
To slumber
Awaiting fate
And decay
Some people
Are windfalls
In lifes
Cruel way.
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Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: October 25th, 2025 03:08
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 30
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Sealgair, Devender Kumar
Offline)
Comments2
A deep metaphor that leaves a feeling of sadness and loss that can not be recovered. Lost fruit, lost souls and a sense of determinism where one wonders if their purpose is to plant seeds, provide nourishment for the ecosystem of the race. Everything has its purpose. Very nicely written a fave
most kind, thanking you and much appreciated
You are most welcome
That sounds like a grim prophecy or a dark warning ...
I suppose in a way it is, we all fall eventually, thanks for reading
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