In the orchard where sunlight dances free,
Apples hang like jewels on every tree.
Their crimson skins with a velvet sheen,
Whisper secrets of forests evergreen.

Through summer’s warmth and autumn’s chill,
They grow with nature’s gentle will.
Each bite a burst of sweet delight,
A testament to earth’s pure might.

Beneath the sky’s vast azure hue,
Apples ripen in morning dew.
Their fragrance fills the cool, crisp air,
A treasure found both rich and rare.

Let us cherish this humble fruit,
From stem to seed, from branch to root.
For in its flesh, so ripe and true,
Lies a world both old and new.