Gravity pulls them down,
The apples and the pears;
They fall and roll down
The earth incline and
Gather by the creek of clear,
Sweet water of the Grange.
They are perfect samples
Of their kind: Red and green
with willow trim.
They are magical, you know,
From the Mage's dreams;
If you are downcast, a bite,
Will bring you up in an
Euphoric stream!
Percival had an orchard too.
At its center his sword stands
From the rent asunder ground.
It was in Camlaan where he fell!
©basko
B