The apple hangs alone
Stooped down on its bough
Morning dew drips from its skin
The rising day slowly sinking in
Autumn is fading fast
Reaching for sunlight
hoping it will last
Soon enough we'll all be feeling winters wrath
But before then
Icy grey mist shrouds
And this lonely apple tree
Stands desolate in a farmers field
Beckoning to be picked
While the rest of the world
Remains in clouds