Poetry, The Key in the Door and other poems

Apple

What is it to be an apple?

One needs form of course,

a roundness, certainly;

time to grow, swell, sweeten.

Patience, that goes without saying.

And dedication to push the skin

to the very point of bursting,

yet holding firm,

bending the bough

before yielding to now.

A sense of pride is useful with

the merest hint of bashfulness to

bring a little blush – so appealing.

A generosity to give of your

juices, as Eve to Adam did.

And finally, a sacrificial deed,

allowing sharp teeth to sink

into crisp outer skin,

sensual inner flesh.