Apples
I still remember that one time I went thrift shopping with you, you walked beside me, slowing your pace to one small stride at a time and I heard you mumble, "one apple, two apple, three apple, four apple" To the time of your steps, and I asked, "where's that from?" And you told me, it was the rhythm for procession, when they're walking down the isle, of our old church. I remember wanting to laugh then, at how ridiculous it was. I walked out of religion years ago, and here it was, a phantom walking beside me again. I never thought it could be used for this.












