The Magical Apple Tree
I love magical stories. In a world of sadness, it's nice to read magical poems.
Through my window, I see a lone apple tree,It seems to have apples in every season.In the middle of winter on a frosty day,The tree has taken the colour of frost from the field.All its leaves have fallen, but the apples remain.There are no rotten apples fallen, they’re all fresh.It certainly seems like a magical tree,I wanted to pick some juicy apples,But the birds would fly away.I don’t have powers of St Frances to hold them in my palm.Last time I picked an apple from the church yard,I felt like Eve in Adam and Eve story.These apples I see are shades of green, pink, and goldI see birds singing their melodies flying to and fro,They’re mostly Black Birds and Sparrows.The other birds have flown away from the Winter Blues.I have never seen this apple tree before-As I often have my bedroom curtains closed.I’ll remember to open the curtains on some nights.You never know what magical things I would see!It was some years ago I saw a bright shining star sparkling into my bedroom,That was really magical!