Apple On A Tree

A Shakespearean Sonnet

You sit there hanging, like an apple on a tree.
Healing, hoping; you ripen as you wait.
Someone will come; the one who holds the key.
Someone to make you speak, someone to change your fate.

The moment always zooms by and the chance has flown,
Like a bird in the clouds, vanishing before your eyes.
But look! Look on the other side of the frosted window!
Torment! The memory is still written in the skies!

You curse the chance that was wasted,
Yet you know it would have turned out the same way!
Your only companion is the feeling you have once tasted,
The bitterness that comes before a brand new day.

Like the apple in my hand i wipe its skin clean,
Before i take a bite and once again go unseen.