The Unbitten Apple
The swing
Still and empty
She comes home
Fills the seat and
Unwinds her
imaginative mind
Sways freely
Mom is in the kitchen
Dad cuts the grass
Bits of sunshine dance on her legs
Laughter barely audible
Over the mower
She is safe
Happy
Young
She is the unbitten apple
Days pass
Weeks
Years
The sound of the drill
The saw
Red and white paint
Playhouse
A gift made from his hands with love
She dances and plays
She remains
The unbitten apple
Vows change
Lives separate and
She sits sadly
In the playhouse
Alone
She grows and learns
To pretend it doesn’t hurt
She hates the reasons why
She squeezes her eyes shut and tries to stay whole
But all she sees
Is a picture
Of the unbitten apple
Surrounded
By love
She heals
She smiles
She loves
Unknowingly he patches her heart
Her apple, unbitten
Fall, Winter, Spring, Summer
He bites
She cries
She tries to fix the marks
To patch
The apple
She cannot and
She is torn.
She dreams
Swing
Playhouse
Him
His hands, the paint, the saw
Love
Love again
Loss
The apple
Bitten
