(To the metre of a fast ‘clickety-clack’ train track with whistles.)
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 mean genes, advance, to lance my hand
Grabbed an apple and leaf, from beneath, his still-living famous tree
Took them home to plant a seed, that can’t but add, to its legacy
“Let’s send a seed and leaf, from this tree to space, so the crew can love
These natural shapes and colours, from their white air-locked cell above”
“Cute, but please mute, cash has to flow, but thank you for the chat”
“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 the heavens. Still, he’d love it, if his tree’s cells did