The apple of the mind starts small

A tiny bud without form

Flowering in the spring of our lives

Full of hopeful promise

Blooming

Summer sweet

Red and juicy

Or crunchy and full of bite

Some are windfalls

Cast aside

Before their time

Others become *****

Hidden maggots in the heart

Ripeness gently falls to autumn decay

We wither and we die

Returning to earth when we have cast our seeds

Leaving younger fruit to take our place

On the tree of life