An Apple A Day

I tell a lie when I say Poems in mind always play Streams on endless output My mind is never vacantly mute. To tell you the truth it oft happens When riding to work on buses or trains Like a lost river dry up my thoughts Stubbornly dry much like walnuts. Funnily it doesn’t for long last It’s preordained mind mustn’t rust A fellow traveler brings out an apple Nibble at it with it grapple. In boredom my eyes at the scene gape How the apple gradually changes shape With each bite a chunk is torn In each bite a poem is born.