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Little Green Apples
Little green apples,
where you were hiding,
in the blossoms on my tree.
Hummingbird hovered,
bees kissed the white blossoms,
promised little green apples.
Little green apples,
who would taste your tartness first?
blue jays, swallows, or me?
Last season's apples,
wrinkled skin scattered under tree,
like the forgotten old men.
Copyright ©
Jay Narain
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