For the Apple

Lately I'm dreaming in color. Of fruits and emotions:
That apple was meant for me. Right there on the edge of its plate.
How long was it waiting?
Patiently anyway, that Braeburn existed. Waiting for me to thank it. And touch it and take it.
Sleepwalking, I gave it my prayer. And it gave me the Sun for a spine.
I'm merging, transfusing. My soul is deforming. That apple is teaching me past living.