Apple Picking Time

I must go and pick them before they have fallen,
The last apples on the young tree.
The one that I planted the year that you left us.
Our son dug the big hole for me.

It has been seven years and this is the first time
There have been so many to reap.
They are sweet and they're tart with plenty of flavor;
Winter apples to store and keep.

I am sad as I pick them, who is to eat them?
Our son has now joined you up there.
You were the two that enjoyed a fresh apple
And you were my pie eating pair.

I will store them away, but I long to go back
To those wonderful days of yore,
When an apple a day, kept the doctor away;
And the hungry wolf from our door.

The fruit cellar is full and I know good and well,
I won't be able to eat all
Of those apples. I'll carry them out in the spring
And pack more away in the fall.

Joyce 10/12/02