you’re a Granny Smith I’m a McIntosh (touch of Irish) he’s a Golden Delicious she’s a Fuji didn’t we run young and silly
through that orchard sampling
everything found one or two
that caught our eye
took a big bite fell in love
dug ourselves up moved
roots and all next to theirs
got entangled never moved again
perhaps that’s why we stopped
reaching and touching others
it became too much of a stretch
too far to reach?
well that apple grove is bigger now and I hear the new varieties are amazing wonderful tasty it’s just too bad we can’t graft a piece of ourselves onto a pair of pruned roots and go for a long walk see if that appetite returns mouth ready to engage with what the eyes haven’t seen for such a long time