"Core Value"

Rosy, Red apple, Lived high in a tree.
Auspicious, Nutritious, Delicious was she.

She basked in the warmth,
of the sun up afar –
And dreamed every night,
Under a blanket of stars.
The dream of an apple,
Is to be “held” as the best –
As the gift of a child,
On a loved teacher’s desk.

Shiny and Perfect,
Is what it would take –
To make then, the grade –
And avoid being baked!

She held to her dream
As all apples do –
And grew ever perfect,
Her branch ever true.

The came a storm,
As never she’d seen.
Shaken so great,
She prayed it a dream.
She woke as each morning,
To the orchards sweet sound –
And lay, to her horror,
In the grass on the ground!

Her dream was now shattered,
Battered and bruised –
She lay there and wept –
In the cool mourning dew.

Condemned now to fate
She continued to cry –
No chance for redemption,
In a strudel or pie.

She cried out to God –
Oh! Lord! Why? Oh, Why?
Have you shaken my world,
And left me to die?

They call you “Messiah”,
“The Truth” in all things –
The one, “All in all”
“The king of all Kings”!

Have Mercy on me!
What good will it bring?
If I die without meaning?
Please teach me this thing!

Gods Love now upon her,
Her Faith in Him shown –
He granted the lesson,
She longed to be known.

 On the edge of Orchard,
On his way that to school –
A little boy came upon her,
And exclaimed, Wow! How cool!

She feared he could leaved her,
And just walk away –
Unloved and imperfect –
Alone to decay –

He kneeled down beside her,
And gave her a grin.
Opened his backpack,
And tossed her then, in.

Josteled about, she rolled to and fro –
Her life at its darkest,
Her bruises did grow.
After awhile, the bouncing did cease –
Alone in the silence,
Strangely at peace –

Was this now it?
How would her life end?
Would she be dashed on the ground –
And forsaken again?

Just then it happened –
All things were made right –
The backpack flung open,
She saw then, the light.

The light of a classroom!
She thought she had died!
And smiled at the Angels,
Sitting now by her side!

Then she was lifted,
As if riding on Air –
In the palm of the child,
Who had brought her then, there –

She was carried with Love,
From one Realm to the next –
And placed in high Honour –
On a Loved Teacher’s desk.

The desk of a Teacher
Who taught Perfect Love –
Found her bruises “Appealing” –
Took her, “Just as she Was.”

God’s lesson today:
“In strength we are weak”
God Loves not the Perfect –
But the bruised and the Meek –



 James Anthony Thomas