Yesterday I sat
beneath the apple tree,
The leaves fell on my
shoulders like the snow that fell to the ground,
The smell of autumn
overwhelmed me with an essence of nature,
A security within
itself, guiding me to sweet innocence.
Today I sit beneath
that same apple tree,
Wondering how things
change so fast,
Now I look up through
the branches,
As if I were scanning
an x-ray. Everything has become too clear, too harsh,
The sweet smell has
faded into a sickly smell of decaying fruit,
No longer a security,
instead a sick feeling of nostalgia.
Tomorrow I will return
to the apple tree,
I will look up
towards the branches as memories will flood my head.
I will remember the
very first time I sat beneath the apple tree.
A child will run
around the tree, leaves crunching under their shoes,
Displaying innocence
I once had.
by Shaira Berg
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