Round and crunchy baby of the tree,

You ripen and jump down onto me,

Newton knew of the way this felt,

While under a tree he was knelt,

So solid an object yet so sweet,

We’ve forgotten how they’re a treat,

So few things are available to all,

But an apple a day stops the doctor’s call,

Perfect each right to the core,

You can’t satisfy the desire for more.

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Image credit to Bruno Scramgnon of Pexels