
In search of nature’s gift, I tread,
Apples, red and gold,
For jams, jellies, and pies.
Apples gold and red,
Amidst the rows of apple trees,
I venture near,
a sweet delight,
Amidst the leaves,
Apples, red and gold,
the apples appear.
Amidst the rows of apple trees,
For jams, jellies, and pies.
its branches spread.
With basket in tow,
a taste just right.
apples round and ripe,
With basket in tow,
I fill the basket,
Bruises cook away.
round and ripe,
they tell a tale,
Of nature’s whims
I fill the basket undeterred,
A harvest of love,
bruises cook away, tender grace.
In pots of warmth, where memories play.
Of yesteryears, a summer’s day,
The scent of apples fills the air,
And as I pick, I drift away,
Jams and jellies, preserving moments,
In jars of sweetness, memories stay,
Apples, red and gold, a treasure found,
The rows of apple trees, With baskets in tow.
Memories of apple-picking.

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