The Weight of Inaction

I saw it drop, ripe red against the gray,

rolling slowly, a soft final ballet.

Leaves danced in circles, the chill in the air,

I stood with my hands clasped, lost in despair.

That apple, once firm, now bruised on the ground,

a symbol of choices, the silence profound.

A moment of stillness, where I chose to stay,

a witness to endings that drifted away.