Thursday, 13 October 2011
An Apple Poem A Day... continued
by Pierre Gammara
A crimson apple,
Admiring her reflection, pronounced,
She was the most beautiful fruit,
Of all the fruit in the world.
She was the most tender, the most delightful
The most dulcet, the most subtle.
Not the mango, not the agave,
Nor the most delectable melon,
Not the pineapple, not the orange…
None of the fruits we eat,
Under the northern sky, under the southern sky;
Not the red sapotilla,
Not the strawberry, not the blueberry
Had such melting flesh, such bloom.
Her sister was not to be found.
The breeze wafted her perfume through the air,
Her purple hue against the leafy green struck the eye.
'Oh yes, it's true, so true,' said a tiny little worm,
Nestled in her core.