I trained on a line to Newton’s area the volume was horrific
Hyperbolic wails from impaled rails, but the carriage, it was terrific
The fields around there, are gridded squares, on gently rolling land
Rippling greens, spiked by genes, advanced to lance my hands
I grabbed an apple and a leaf, from beneath, his still-living famous tree
Back home I plant, a seed that can’t, but add to its legacy
“Let’s send a leaf from this tree to space”, so the floating crew can love
Its natural shape and colours from their white air-locked cell above
“Cute but moot, cash has to flow”, the suggestion soon fell flat
“Tellin’ you, there’s no revenue, so what’s the point in that?”
Just a thought, that wasn’t bought, but still a novel idea, I bid
Newton never made it to space, but he’d love it if his tree’s cells did