An apple fell from a tree
As I tried to breathe
The color violet
Which I thought was brilliant
But it filled me with rabbits
Who wanted some porridge
From this refrigerator door
Which I meant to plant in my living room
So I could marry my little loving broom
Which was pink and red and dusty
Like a flowing dove in the sky
Flittering bright and high
Only we live to sleep
In bathtubs of clay
Which I'm okay
As they are deep