The Poison Apple

The Poison Apple

Upon the tree so gnarled and bare,

A single apple lingered there.

Its skin so red, its shine so bright,

Yet something was just, “Not quite right.”

The forest hummed, a warning low,

A tale of sorrow long ago.

Of hands that reached, of lips that bit,

And hearts that blackened bit by bit.

Temptation calls with sweetest cry,

But truths are hidden, masked by lies.

A taste so sweet, a charm so sly,

Then shadows creep, and spirits die.

The poison apple waits, it seems,

To shatter trust and scatter dreams.

Beware its lure, its polished skin,

the darkness hides where light begins.

So walk away, resist its spell,

And leave the cursed fruit to dwell.

For beauty fades, and danger lies

In tempting things that tantalise.