If apples could speak,
they'd learn as buds
that all fruit are doomed.

A crisp history
would tell of countless
apples fallen,
their seeds sowed
in doubt and ****.

The sob story
of falling down
would rain existence
fruitless
for branch hangers
waiting to be picked.

If apples could speak,
one might finally
look up and ask,

"Why doesn't the moon fall?"

sowing the need for
fruit to orbit trees,
like fleshy moons,
tiny but immune.