The seeds fell 
from his hands to hers
as she looked into his prideful eyes,
hopeful for the next lesson,
the next story,
the next adventure.


Generations apart,
the granddaughter treasured him.
Her grandfather’s boundless wit
brought them to their knees
in cackles of haughty laughter
as they dug into the dirt.


The seeds fell
from her hands to the earth;
the soil opened its salivating mouth
to accept the falling gift.
She scraped the crumbles of dirt
across the gaping hole,
satisfying its emptiness.


The seeds cracked
under the security of its blanket
of soil, creating new room to grow.
One began to extend,
the other refused to leave its shell;
the competition for survival 
was fought and won.


A stem emerged,
reaching for the arms of the sun
and the tears of the clouds.
The roots spread,
searching for security
and dependability. 


She called for her grandfather,
and the two watched as it grew,
providing shelter and nutrients
as nature demanded it.
Servants to the inclement weather,
the two braved it all for its survival.


The sprout matured,
as did the girl,
wondering why she cared
about such childish things.


Her grandfather made the walk
each day to the hole in the earth
where he recalled the day it was dug,
longing for a return to
what once was.


He called for his granddaughter,
but only one watched as it grew,
providing shelter and nutrients
as nature demanded it.
The weather released its frigid grip,
And soon the sapling would brave it alone.


Generations apart,
the distance between them grew.
What once brought them to their knees
was no longer enough
to warrant a visit from his granddaughter.


A tree stood there now.
Rubies glistened against emeralds,
the fruitful tree that brought the two together
stood alone.


An apple fell
from the grip of a branch
to the embrace of the earth.
It joined a number of others like it
for there was no one there
to pick them anymore.


A life fell
from her hands to the earth;
the soil opened its salivating mouth
to accept the falling gift.
They scraped the crumbles of dirt
across the gaping hole,
satisfying its emptiness.


A tear fell
from her face to the earth;
wondering why she cared
about such childish things.


The granddaughter made the walk
each day to the hole in the earth
where she recalled the day it was dug,
longing for a return to
what once was.


The tree fell,
from their hands to the earth;
the sound of splitting wood
brought her to her knees
in cackles of haughty tears
as they removed it from the dirt.


A stump rest there now.
Rubies rotted, emeralds eroded;
the fruitful tree that brought the two together
was nought and gone.


New seeds fell
from her hands to his
as he looked into her prideful eyes,
remembering the last lesson,
the last story,
the last adventure.


Generations apart,
the grandson treasured her.
His grandmother’s boundless love
kept them on their feet
as they dug into the dirt.


The seeds fell
from his hands to the earth;
the soil opened its salivating mouth
to accept the falling gift.
He scraped the crumbles of soil
across the gaping hole,
satisfying its emptiness.

Oh, My Word! Let Jacob know what you thought of this piece in the comments! Also, what’s your favorite kind of apple? 🙂

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Contact Jacob Individually Here – jtsammonbusiness@gmail.com

Oh, My Word! is a weekly updated blog featuring fiction, poetry, drama, and essays for the world. #OhMyWordWednesdays

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I am an aspiring writer looking to expand and improve my craft by working alongside other writers in an interactive community​ focused on symbiotic growth with a dedication to our work.

3 Comment on “Apple Tree

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