Crushed

I am the apple on top of the tree

And I was impatient, as you can see

I was afraid that I'd grow wrinkly and dry

If I wasn't picked soon-- I feared I might die!


And so I tried something I wasn't meant to do

I tried, oh I tried, I tried to pick YOU

I wasn't made to reach out

But to be reached out for

And the further I stretched

The closer I came to the floor


I thought you were cute, and sweet--like me

But you only glanced up to the top of this tree

And then kept on walking

You went your own way

Leaving me crushed, to shake and to sway

On top of my tree

Lonely as can be


And even after I made you that gift!

The one I'd thought might help you lift

Your arms up high

To touch the sky

And bring me down

To the earth renown...


Yet all you did was shuffle your feet

And turn your back

My fruit not to eat

As a figurative tear slid down my cheek


But on your travels, I wish you well

You don't have to worry about this mademoiselle 

More will come

Of this I am sure

And one will bring

My heartache's cure

The End

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