I also submitted this poem to the Poetry Potluck since it fits with this week's theme of using a song.

I wasn't at all sure how this was going to go. I just dove in and traveled along - not ending up where I expected at all. Challenging, but fun -
Amazing, Grace -- How sweet the sound of
crunchy apples eaten for lunch under
the fruited canopy of orchard trees.
"Pass me a pippin. I saw one fall with
a thud on the grassy ground over there."
I want to bake a Julian apple
pie; an American Pie, to take in my
Chevy to the levy so the music won't
die. Raggedy Ann will eat a piece and smile.
Bake a pie. Fill it with fresh fruit bursting
through the crisp crust, cut by a paring knife
slanting slits slashed so sweet syrup seeps out.
Others strive to keep up with the rat race;
I eat apples and dream with my friend Grace.