She did scrape her knee
Messed her hair
Bruised her ankle
And her dress did just get a tear
To Pluck that golden apple On the tree
That swayed with the air
And rushed home to share
Only to be acknowledged or appreciated
But no one seemed to care
The apple wasn't golden enough after all
Wounded her thigh
Bled her finger
Scratched her elbow
And Tore her sleeve
The next time she climbed
And rushed home to share
Only to be called a disappointment and liability
So the next day she went to the tree so high
And kicked it and punched it with all her might
And cried and screamed and cried it all out and loud
Until she fell asleep under the cloud
Woke up and entered the house with lousy eyes
And found the opportunity to rest her eyes on what she thought was a bunch of lies
They rushed to her and bombarded her with questions "Where were you? We have been looking everywhere!"
She said politely "Alas! Not everywhere"
It was a sight oh so rare to her
She couldn't resist sharing "I thought you'd be happy you'd finally not have to deal with a daughter."
She did scrape her knee
Messed her hair
Bruised her ankle
And her dress did just get a tear
Wounded her thigh
Bled her finger
Scratched her elbow
And tore her sleeves
Broke a few bones
Fractured a little here and there
Had mud all over her face and hair
And she stood to stare the tree
that stood so high in the backyard
With the golden apple in her hand
She turned and sat and smiled
As she ate the apple all by herself and patted her own back.
- y.v