Back when I was young and The Village
Was new there was an old and broken apple
Tree just over a little hill  
Less than a hundred yards or so from my
Backdoor.  It was small, a crab apple I think
But I do not ever seeing any apples.  It was squat
Almost split down the middle of its short trunk.
Probably struck by lightening.
Still in the Spring every year it produced the most
Beautiful white blossoms.  No one seemed to notice
Its been more than 70 years since we moved in there and
Almost as many since I left.  I understand that the Village
Goes on but it seems impossible that the old apple tree
Still lives but in my memory it will always be part of me.
After my time there my life changed 'n when I I came back
I was married.  Now I too am broken but still I try to live
Putting out little blossoms from time to time and though
There are few I know who take notice some will think
Back on their youth and  will remember I was part of it

For my sister Sue; and for all my and her old friends,
some remembered some gone but still remembered from
The Village.