The Apple and the Boy

Look at you, so beautiful,
Like an apple in a tree,
Waiting to be picked or plucked,
Or eaten by a bee.

You'll hang there until noticed,
Or you tumble from your tree,
Where you could be found by a boy,
Or trampled beneath his feet.

Maybe he'll find you in the tree,
Or lying on the ground,
But no matter where he finds you,
Know you cannot make a sound.

So if he doesn't see you,
And you remain unfound,
There's little you can do about it,
There's no way to get around.

He simply has to find you,
Or you'll lie there 'til you rot,
Maybe you're not his apple,
Maybe you're not in his lot.

Peace,
Justin