An apple tree bending under the weight  of its fruit
a breeze strong enough to shake the leaves from their branches, but
caring for naught more than their children
downwards they bend, twisting in their descension, until the very top ends of the tree have come to rest on the warm earth;
filled with love from their parents - the sun, the earth, and the tree,
they grow, they swell, almost to the point of bursting,
they have no choice but to grow
I think it's determination that pulls us through when you beg,
"just one more chance" my fruit