rotten apples on the tree

rotten apples on the tree
shall we talk of waste?
wasted opportunities
wasted minds
wasted dreams
wasted ambition
wasted complexity

how blighted is the morrow?
wasted hopes
wasted sympathy

yet i can’t help but think
how they look preserved, in a way
hanging like some kind of offering
to the cruel winter sky

rotten…super rotten apples on a tree
howsoever can this be?
when a dawn breaks clean and bright
an apple falls, as apples might

yet these remain
and cling to birth
in packaged morsels
of wandering dearth

and as i quickly walk on by
i swear, i heard an apple tree sigh



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