As a little girl she played around the tree.  Traveling far and wide in her mind dreaming of wonders she wants to see never worrying about time spring would bring the first buds The old apple tree would soon bloom summer rain brought pies of mud yellow apples glisten by light of the moon I bought mom a ladder would bring picking some for Canning the best for eating how easy country life seemed while ring around the rosy she was singing fall comes and winter leaves blow brown in the wind flying high like the barn swallows swaying to and fro as limbs bend as time goes to womanhood she grew the old apple tree is no more never forgetting those memories she can sour with a heart so filled with glem to a time when a child's life seemed so free feeling the warmth of a sun beam playing again under the old apple tree.

      Written by Mary Ann quick