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Rated: E · Poetry · Nature · #2188601
An Autumn Poem
I picked a bright red apple,
fresh from off the tree
and rubbed it on my sleeve
till it was clean and shiny.

With a crunch I sunk my teeth
through its crispy skin
and dashed away the juice
that dribbled down my chin.

My nose scrunched,
my lips quivered,
something on my
tongue shivered.

It wasn't apple
skin or juice,
I think my face
turned chartreuse

For dangling from my apple
was a little worm,
mourning for its other half-
which made my tummy squirm.
© Copyright 2019 J. H. Schmidt (goofyj at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2188601