When the Apples Fell

What did I look like when the apples fell?
Did I seem happy? Did I smile a lot?
Or did I look more like a burglar caught
Red-handed at the door? Or could you tell
I felt bad, or disturbed, or just unwell,
Like someone aggravated, on the spot,
Found out? Did I seem cold, harsh, tranquil, hot?
Did I appear to sniff at a bad smell?

I wanted to be clear, and what I say
About it now, the weather being fair,
With both of us here, standing on the stair,
Is not as clear as I had hoped today:
I was just hoping that I could portray
One more exact impression of despair.