Inspired by Carol Ann Duffy
"Why..." he'd ask, "...do things fall down?"
He'd wrinkle his brow, and frown.
He didn't work in that study,
when he was writing his hands bloody,
but stayed under the tree,
asking for his cup of tea,
and when I told him to come
inside, he'd grunt and chide
me on how important this
was. So I threw it, aiming to miss
but the apple caught him on the head.
"I've got it!" he said.
I just rolled my eyes.
How did I fall for him?