The Ironic Fruit

I am the apple on the branch
After a heavy rain
And probably, the only fruit
To bear the cool dew's pain
I look upon my neighbors
That rejoice from stormy climes
And in sorrow I am swallowed
For I weep for drier times...

Yet the more I tend to cry
The less chance I have to dry

poem by Sasha Ioffine
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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