Newton's Apple, William Tell and the Art of Invisibility

Newton’s apple came to me,

From a rooftop, perhaps a tree,

Many chimneys surround me here,

In this place without a voice,

So many faces, so little choice,

It was the day, this I know,

And the church bell ringing indicates an even hour,

If you don’t believe, then take your proof,

So many saw it well,

From different angles,

In other language,

From close and from a distance,

Each a difference in thread to spell,

But here’s the core, the rest's in me,

Before we met I’d yet to eat,

And it’s wrong to forgo lunch in all this heat,

Since no one knew,

Nor did I,

Except for pictures taken from the sky,

And from the ground and pointing up,

Yet for those the sun, for the most part, messed on up,

All this drama surrounding me, you’d think I’d have much more to say,

Yet the only thing that fell to me, was time, will tell, and in the end will get its way