An Apple, a Day ©
Frank E Gibbard
London, England
2005
The apple tree stands
Its fruit fall lands
In countless hands
With mystery
Until one fruitful day
What one man saw
Went down in lore
And history
For more was dropped
Than just the fruit on
The head of good old
Isaac Newton
His wig off-popped
His heart near stopped
Beneath pate close-cropped
A notion
Hied he off to nearby chapel
With that very fateful apple
He'd a theory to grapple
First devotion
The great idea that only he
Could give sufficient gravity
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