An Apple Tree
I used to speak with an apple tree—
She was ready to please.
It was time for her fruits to be
Eaten in Thanksgiving.
Her fruits were largely fresh
And not penetrated by any worm.
It was time for the world to mesh
Throughout her juices, turn by turn.
I invited her to join my family—
To forget about nature's plea.
Yet she couldn't resist that calling—
She denied me.
The crowds gathered in distress
About how I rejected the fruit they yearned
"I cut that tree down, " I confessed.
"And oh—she burned and burned! "
Edwin Cordero's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (An Apple Tree by Edwin Cordero )
- Crime & War, Dean Meredith
- This world is messy, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- Barriers Within, Namita Sawant
- Ma mate kahuchhi, gajanan mishra
- The New Watch, Terence Murphy
- My mother is telling me, gajanan mishra
- The Search, david kush
- Belissima, Patricia Spears Jones
- Ghosts, Patricia Spears Jones
- Let me proceed forward, gajanan mishra
Poem of the Day
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
- Heather Burns
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 November 1759 – 9 May 1805)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
(24 January 1572 - 31 March 1631)