It was on blooming flowers,
On apple trees one could see,
Eyes gazing on their beauty,
That was a sight heavenly.

As a windstorm made its way,
Through trees petals it did strew,
Many petals filled the air,
But those then on trees were few.

To the ground they made their way,
The ground then had become white;
The ground became a carpet,
In which people took delight.

With apple blossoms blooming,
The air they'd been perfuming.