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Apple Pip

Once there was an apple and inside it was a seed.
The seed was packed with data that was aching to be freed.
So when you ate the apple and the pips were spat asunder,
Landing in the smell of grass, amidst the noise of thunder,

What d'you think it meant? Did the thunder signal rain?
Would the seed find earth, or get washed off down a drain?
Would the seed take root? Would it grow into a tree,
Giving space to all that data that was aching to be free?

No one knew and no one knows. Your chapter's not complete:
Do you spit your apple pips into a field or a street?
Leave your comments freely in this exercise with me,
To manifest your dream and help your seed become a tree.

11th October 2012 © Simon Welsh Poetry
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