I Shall Remember You, Little Apple
This is for you, little apple. I write these words of remembrance.
I was eating an apple while driving home from the Puerto Rico Products Association today. I was travelling through the urban setting, a decidedly un-vegetation friendly environment. I reflected that if I had been in the country, I would have tossed my apple core from the car into the tropical foliage. Drat, I am here in the city. The apple core is an eye sore. How would I like apple cores on my side walk, sitting there, collecting ants and turning brown in the hot sun? The apple that falls on the concrete of the city has no chance for life, and in the best of cases is an ugly mess.
In the country, though, it would have a chance to grow into an apple tree. Ah, but I have eaten the flesh of the apple, the flesh that would give its small seeds the nourishment for new life. I have done such violence to these poor little things. They would stand no chance to achieve life if left to their own devices. They are done whether on the side walk or the forest. They were done in by me, by my hungry apple flesh eating mouth.
The poor devils.