Thirty Apples Poem by Quazi Johirul Islam

Recently I have got friendship with thirty fresh apples,
passing the debate of Oriana Falacci, they often
Reach to three million.

Leaving adorable character of childhood
They've formed hard shape
of adolescent, round and attractive.
Some are green, some red, golden beauty also falling
from some of their body.

Looking at their lively meeting
sometimes I feel like multi-ethnic
harmony of Jackson Heights;
girls of assorted colors
are roaming around so cheerfully;
on their bosoms the apples of bravery
and in their kiss-thirst leaps
the smile of an undivided world.

It is a routine that I meet them every morning
and we share some prominent issues
they let me know their secret plan
and they grow bigger everyday aiming to love.

But I know they are also prepared to explode.