How do you pick the perfect apple on the tree without taking a bite?

At first, it seems impossible.

But when you look into her eyes,

And your heart begins to ache,

And you know you'd part the seas for her,

You've found the only apple worth picking.

I did remember the feeling of apple picking season. I remembered the fall weather and what it was like to find the perfect one. The apples were of red and green, sometimes both, but colors that reminded me of warmth and the candle mother had lit just before dinner was served. It was cold that day but not cold enough for a sweater, just for apple cider and pumpkin donuts. The apple I picked was red, all red. I stood upon the ladder, feeling giant, I reigned over the trees and felt like howling over top of them. I remembered then, the applesauce grandmother would make. I would remember the first bite, the bitter taste of fresh apple, sour but sweet. Grandmothers home.

Bushels of apples
Picked from the orchard this fall
Ripe, crimson, and sweet

Sticky pips coated,
    Groping this Apple

No biting only licking

     Teasing her with

My tongue..

I thought the moon
forever in the sky would always
be in the sky but then you
handed it to me gave it to me
on a silver platter it tasted
of sour pear and apple it filled
my mouth with
winter song and euca
lyptus

╰⊰✿´ℒ♡ⓥℯ'✿⊱╮
Golden, flaky, butter crust
Peeled bramley apples
Cored, sliced, sprinkle sugar, salt
Kiss of cinnamon
Flour and lemon
Flute edges
Bake!
╰⊰✿⊱╮

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