Almost Made Applesauce

A poem about Love and loss. One of almost made applesauce. Despite our struggles, naturalism conquers in the end.

This here is a story sad.

One of love and loss.

One of Almost Made

Applesauce

 

I came home hungry

After a warm day of school.

I need to eat something

That would make my body cool.

 

I searched frantic

In sweaty haste.

Trying to find

Delicious apple paste.

 

I ripped into the fridge

For that saucy bowl.

But when found, it was empty

Just like my soul.

 

All that was left

Was a crumpled note.

It told of betrayal

With malicious quote.

 

“I owe you,”

The note had read,

“Some dainty,

Apple flavored spread.”

 

Signed with the pen

Of a rooming fellow.

My stomach rumbled

A boom and bellow.

 

After that guttural

Cacophony,

I saw out the window

Our fruited tree.

 

I climbed that tree

With danger high.

If one branch breaks

I surely would die.

 

But I returned well

Having retrieved treasure,

And continued my plot

For applesaucy pleasure.

 

I peeled the fruit

And got rid of the core.

I chopped them up

And my luck did soar.

 

For I found a blender

To make that apple puree.

Added cinnamon and sugar

To make my meal gourmet.

 

I revved up the motor

Watched it wirr and stir.

Churning up my delight

With a machine’s purr.

 

A sudden boom

And out the light went.

The blender stopped progress

At eighty percent.

 

 

 

And the dark

My hope did steal.

I clutched the blender

With the almost made meal.

 

I had tried,

With all my might.

Opportunity gone

Plus a defeat of light.

 

I cried on the floor

In a puddle of loss.

All that remained:

Almost Made Applesauce.

Author's Note

I wrote this in about two hours. My creative writing class couldn't find anything wrong with it when we peer edited.