Apple Dreams Poem by Adrian Flett

As a young girl she would go
into the orchard, into the orchard
and when the firm red apples
were ready to fall, ready to fall
she picked them from the loam red soil
from the loam red soil.
In her apron they bulged and rolled
bulged and rolled.
When firm red apples began to fall
she picked them from the loam red soil.



Now as she shuffles behind a trolley
into the supermarket, into the market
where cold leather-skinned apples lie
packed in the rack, packed in the rack;
she takes them in their Styrofoam pack
in their Styrofoam pack.
In her trolley they lie trussed and tight
all trussed and tight.
When firm red apples began to fall
she picked them from the loam red soil.



In bed tonight in nightgown dreams
into the orchard, into the orchard
she goes and feels the sun warmed apples
rolling glowing red, rolling glowing red.
They drop and roll about her bed
drop and roll about her bed.
Young dream legs chase them down
chase them down.
When firm red apples began to fall
she picked them from the loam red soil.