Tiny Apple Poem by Chris G. Vaillancourt

A tiny apple in the tree.
Our straining eyes could just
about make it out in the branches.
I think we enjoyed
the thought that something
was smaller than us.
It hung deep red
with a sliver of sun
shimmering off its surface.
Each of us felt the
apple was ours alone.
Each of us pretended
an exclusive affinity
with the tiny apple in the tree.
It was our special secret
which we would cherish
as if it was the most
significant memory of
our lives.
Our collective breath
sighing in fruitful pleasure
at what surely would be
a delicious bite.

This was the term that
separated us.
Half of us wanted to
gaze in admiration at
the apple forever.
The other half
was planning on
how to eat it.