“There’s small choice in rotten apples.” William Shakespeare (Taming of the Shrew)
Cankered Soul Anticipation lost in the blemished apple's cankered soul, so eagerly plucked, so easily discarded in disappointment, closer inspection revealing my darkly understood truth where meaning drips as milk through coarse muslin. So eagerly plucked, so easily discarded in disappointment in summer's groves of ripe, sweet, acid fertility, where meaning drips as milk through coarse muslin, fermenting in pools of lucid drama easily spread. In summer's groves of ripe, sweet, acid fertility, a promise held tightly in paradise quietly lost, fermenting in pools of lucid drama easily spread among willing acolytes of ideals long forgotten. A promise held tightly in paradise quietly lost, closer inspection revealing my darkly understood truth among willing acolytes of ideals long forgotten, anticipation lost in the blemished apple's cankered soul. ©Paul Vincent Cannon
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