Sown to perfection without thread
The egg that’s broken to joy
Meat of the garden
Fish of its basket
Crisp and tender, teach men to ice
My soul smiles as it bites
Smooth as cotton, a pillow for my lips
See as its future, lies in the middle
Not spreading obstruction nor confusion
You chose to be round
So you can roll to all freely
BITE THE APPLE
It does not remain the same,
precious for our sight, what remains
Yes what remains
But to bite it all
Till it is no more
Or shall we forever adore
And hunger drain us sore
