Beneath the boughs where whispers dwell,
The apple’s tale begins to swell.
In spring’s embrace, it first appears,
A promise wrapped in verdant spheres.

Summer sun bathes the orchard wide,
The apple grows with nature’s pride.
A dance of colors, red and gold,
A story of warmth and life retold.

Autumn’s breath, a gentle sigh,
The apple falls from towering high.
Crisp and sweet, its journey ends,
A gift to share among dear friends.

In winter’s cloak, the tree stands bare,
Yet dreams of spring linger in the air.
The apple’s cycle starts anew,
A timeless bond, both old and true.