Apple Trees

In Autumn air, I'm like an apple tree

Where red stained apples grow from my branches;

And the sun shimmers making me feel free

But strong winds knock down my leaves in patches

With a smirk he seizes my apples away;

Undressing my branches until I'm bare

Leaving my tainted apples to decay

And he chuckles, while savouring a pear

Waiting to be eaten, my apples lay

They lay at the bottom of an old bag

My roots jammed, unable to runaway

A vacant tree left looking like a scrag

His mouth filled with my lingering sweetness;

My cloyed sweetness leading to his fleetness