The Apple

cobwebs and an appleWritten in 1983.

Cobwebs hang from the drawers.
The empty seat
     covered with dust
sits abandoned
     by the desk.

Death
     now sits here
looking at thirty desks
     aligned in six rows.

No more do children laugh
     in this place.
No more does teacher teach
     the students.

The Apple
     perfectly red
sits
     untouched
          by dust
               or web.
Alone
The Apple does not age.
     Forever
          is
               The Apple.