They say “an apple a day keeps the doctor away”. The metaphorical epitome of health resting on a single fruit. A single object. A single piece. A single phrase. Everything relies on something simple. Everything can be changed with something simple.
A life can be saved with a word. A hand. A smile.
But why is it that when we need, just this one apple, this one simple object to change everything, it is not there?
On the uplifting days we have a supply of apples readily available, yet on these days, When the rays of sun are purely darkness, and we dance with the devil contained inside our head, these apples have vanished.
You reach out searching, you try to create your own, you force it. Nothing Works.
You can’t stay away from that doctor, you can’t stay away from that darkness.
You are engulfed, thinking maybe through the blindness you can still obtain the answer. The Cure. You’re Wrong. You’re Trapped. You Have Nothing To Stop It.
It’s just a simple fruit, but it is one that you can’t have.
I'm at a time of life when there are little insights Getting older you see things from a certain place I don't mean all that philosophical stuff Just from where your eyes are in the middle of your face
There are times Life is all about Height and such The things you can and cannot do Can you get things from the very top shelf? Is it hard getting down to tie your shoes?
Changing a light bulb at the top of the stairs Getting a pair of trousers to fit Looking up to even the grandchildren now But still bumping your head on cupboards a bit
Height is one of the ways people divide us Often to discriminate or categorize There's all that clichéd list of stuff Talking around seeing each other Eye to Eye
Does it matter I stopped at five eleven and a half And never made six foot tall? I found out a long time ago that when making love Height doesn't seem to matter at all
And being a Poet it matters less There is no height advantage using lofty language There's a million ways no matter how incorrect Just using simple rhyme to say how it is!
Jesus loves me this I know But what I don't know scares me Each night in silent or whispers of sorts I say "Jesus, tuck me in" He certainly does, and then sits by my bedside Watching me all through the night
Now I ask you Who does not have this Jesus in their life?
The girls in sundresses flowing to and fro Clasp the necklace of the crucifixion cross Except this cross is not old, rugged, or ****** They cry day in and day out in secret For a Jesus man Like one that may be worn as so many accessories before
Oh I pray Lord that I do not die each day in such misery Instead, may I live in You and have you as my first love