Day 115 – The Baker

It used to be I could
pluck an apple from my garden:
any one
from any tree
would do

And it used to be I could
bake you a pie from that apple:
right quick
no questions
easy doing

But I’m finding lately
I don’t have as many apples
I can’t bake a pie as quick
as I once did

And I often find myself
ignoring the few apples I’ve got
wondering why they ever meant
so much

I know no one is waiting
on my pies anymore;
they’re starting to hurt
just to give

but what is a baker
who’s not baking
what is a voice
who doesn’t speak
what am I anymore

if not this?

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