An apple falls from its tree,
It’s green, it’s ripe, it’s all right
The hungry worm squirms to it,
Looking at it, the worm prepares to bite
The bird watches from above,
It’s snack awaiting
It lunges down viciously,
A swift strike, the worm is taken
Up above, above the clouds,
The meek worm is caught in flight
The bird continues to fly,
Prey in beak, it was worth going out in the sunlight
The worm, despite everything,
Does not seem despaired
It knows that one day things would go wrong,
It is not sad, it was always prepared
Not all things are meant to last,
Sadly
All you can do is smile to them,
Gladly
The avian comes to halt,
Near a mountain top
Its beak opens wide,
The worm is at its last stop
And as the blathering of its predators drowns the silence, the worm knows its existence, no matter how important, insignificant, joyful or empty it could have been, could have seemed, it was not all in vain.
Goodbye, little worm.
Jun 18
by
Zyles
