Your Poetry Dot Com - Rotten Apple Tree

A small fruit tree stands alone
The sun shines upon him
and the ground is fertile
Yet he droops so low

His branches are brittle
Though they are still green
And his leaves are dull
Though he is in full season

If you came to pick his fruit, turn back
There were so many blossoms
But they have fallen away
and not an apple is to be had

Once his apples could fill the mouth with joy
And he was so proud of them
But none would eat to their delight
For they were ugly, and unkown

He was too young, and they did not know
So his fruit fell to the ground
and as it started to rott
he could only watch

Now, He is too old to bear any fruit
Although he is only seventeen
Yet wanting to do so much

He gives away rotten apples
Wishing, Wishing, they were sweet.

Here a rotten apple tree withers, in bitter defeat.

This poem is Copyright © forsakensoul