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An Apple, a Day ©

Frank E Gibbard
London, England

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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