THE GIFT

I walked far today, amongst bustle and peoples, diverse in origin, colorful in dress, loud of speaking and largely, carefree. Upon being, in my wandering, diverted from a main path, I took a route, passing beside buildings, many stories high, and of fine stone, residences and workplaces, of bountiful peoples, cool inside, arguing to the heat in the sun, where I walked, except under these trees, behind also a wall, hidden from many. As though, to be amusing, it would grow on a tree, an apple, here pictured, discarded easily, though barely bitten, quickly brown in heat, though untouched, by creatures. SOme paces on, forlorn in their collapse, aside a great portal, magnificent as it's building, a gentleman lay, a desitute, also it is presumed without home, requesting mercy, and generosity, of the fine folk, past him whom walked. Myself I am not rich, but in absence of gifts, of food or money, from the passing-by, I advised where might be found the apple, such I had passed, that the nourishment would please this gentleman.