Yet another falls behind;
Like an apple off my tree;
Resting on the ground
With mellow sweetness;
Ripe with what was
and what should have been;
The first apples were pulled
With greedy hands
and hungry delight.
Now, more apples on the ground
Than left on the tree.
Fall is deep.
Winter is near.
Frost bite will soon take the rest.
The apples made sweeter by the age and cold.
Only the wise enjoy what is left.