Willow vs. The Apple
"Your apples are turning brown, the way they do."
It's what they do, you know. When people nod their heads and sagely speak of 'the way things are'? One of things they are talking about is the apples. Green ones. Yellow ones. Orangish-red ones. Redish-orange. No matter what color they start out as, they all eventually travel in one universal direction.
The apples turn brown.
And you can not stop it.
And I speak with the voice of one-who-knows. Or, you know, write with one. Maybe not a sage voice. Or a nodding head. But it a voice that tried. You can put them in the bottom of your brown (never the same brown as the apple) paper back, tucked in the dark and where it won't squish your sandwich. Or you can keep it near the top, first thing your hands touches. Let it know it is important. The small, but important ways that say hey! You are important to me apple. You can refrigerate it. You can wait until the last possible moment to slice into it. To cute, or bite inside. You can add chemicals, the way the grocery store does. It says that on the box, if you read close enough. That chemicals have been added to retain taste and color. But it doesn't retain.
It just covers up the brown that is still there. And, for the record? Tastes funny.
You could ever try magic, if you wanted to.
But the apple always turns brown. It's what they do.
They change. They age. They brown.
It's what they do, you know. When people nod their heads and sagely speak of 'the way things are'? One of things they are talking about is the apples. Green ones. Yellow ones. Orangish-red ones. Redish-orange. No matter what color they start out as, they all eventually travel in one universal direction.
The apples turn brown.
And you can not stop it.
And I speak with the voice of one-who-knows. Or, you know, write with one. Maybe not a sage voice. Or a nodding head. But it a voice that tried. You can put them in the bottom of your brown (never the same brown as the apple) paper back, tucked in the dark and where it won't squish your sandwich. Or you can keep it near the top, first thing your hands touches. Let it know it is important. The small, but important ways that say hey! You are important to me apple. You can refrigerate it. You can wait until the last possible moment to slice into it. To cute, or bite inside. You can add chemicals, the way the grocery store does. It says that on the box, if you read close enough. That chemicals have been added to retain taste and color. But it doesn't retain.
It just covers up the brown that is still there. And, for the record? Tastes funny.
You could ever try magic, if you wanted to.
But the apple always turns brown. It's what they do.
They change. They age. They brown.