This is a poem.
And there was a tree.
And a person underneath.
Gravity happened.
An apple fell.
It rolled on the ground.
Many things roll.
Like a ball on a smooth surface.
That was a comparison.
Poems work best with relation.
Some people love.
Some people fear.
That is enough for some.
Black and white is simple.
Some like complexity.
Metaphors.
Obscurity.
And in the end.
I guess what every author wants.
Is someone to take the time and read.
If only from beginning to end.
This is the end of the poem.