Half-eaten apples
Are scattered around
Rotting and wasted
Littering the ground
The half-hungry people
Satisfied far too soon
Discard what won’t fit
Then search for the New Moon
Yet seeds will still grow
Into trees just as well
With boughs up in Heaven
And roots down to Hell
And more fruit will fall
To fill up the hollow
And teach them to grow
Hoping others will follow
A Life in Poems 