Apple Children Poem by Leslie Philibert
Apple Children
Rating: ★4.5
The fruit trees have not been baptised
children`s souls in limbo, in mist
Cold green fruit hangs in the rain,
it is a hole in the late afternoon.
They gave been punished by the battery of
the old priest`s car, hurried steps over wet gravel.
Neither heaven nor hell, the rounds of blossom unbroken,
pointless to walk through, should the rain cease.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
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4/19/2024 6:22:48 PM # 1.0.0.1119
The first four lines made perfect sense.