In orchards where the sunlight gleams,
Among the leaves of emerald green,
There rests a fruit of countless dreams,
The apple, in its vibrant sheen.

Its skin, a hue of ruby red,
Or golden as the morning sun,
With every bite, sweet joy is spread,
A taste of autumn, every one.

Beneath its surface, secrets lie,
Crisp and fresh with every crunch,
A treasure trove that satisfies,
From morning’s bite to evening’s munch.

Oh apple, nature’s simple boon,
In every form, delight you bring,
From pies that warm the heart in June,
To cider’s song in early spring.