All the apples ...

All the apples had fallen from the tree - 

Each last windfall was pearled with raindrops - 

I held them in my hands - 

Some were perfect -

Like holding summer - 

Other were ghost apples - 

Soft and corrupt in my hands - 

Ghost apples - 

Rotten with sweet dizzying cidrous fragrance -

Like hopes gone wrong - 

Spotted with regret - 

Eaten by sorrow - 

11.00

Sunday 14 October 2018

The Old School House 

East Stoke 

Dorset