Apple

Okay apple. I said yes to writing while looking at you and figure now is as good as any to start. Didn’t think that looking at your rosy, glossy complexion would help me to write anything but funny enough, I’m sitting here thinking about the girls; my daughter and hers. Apparently, the dimples in your flesh remind me of their smiling faces. Or even the way the little one goofs up her face just as she’s about to start balling. I do miss them all so very much. Is it possible that beneath your God given beauty, there is a depth of substance that reaches far beyond being just a temporal treat? It seems now that apples will forever remind me of my children. Oh apple, shiny pretty apple, all bright and colourful. Thank you for this moment.

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So it’s been said, Oh Apple, that I’vent looked deeply enough into your lustrous appeal. I could have noted I guess, that the glint on your skin is like that of the glint in the air as the sun finally kisses earth, disappearing beyond ocean waves. You have to be as patient to see that as one should be in getting to your last bite. Or maybe that your anciently designed lean to construction makes me think of the first time I saw her dance for me. She said she was simply stretching and yet the movements were so fluid; the light playfully wrapped around her, caressing curves that I have burned into memory; even the very air held her in place balanced against invisible pillars. It was as intoxicating as your delectable first kiss. I could have mentioned your cute, little foot resting so precariously on my table and the twinkling toes, toes I’ve counted again and again to the delightful glee of my most treasured, whose plump rosy cheek is also the tenderest morsel. You are God’s gift indeed.