The picked red apples, dazzled by the golden sun, glistened
Where they were held beside an old barn in their, wooden bins.
At Christmas red and green orchard colors often are worn.
From simple apples some pure delights of autumn are born.
The shining sun way up in the sky is our biggest star
But I love when bright apples top my table best by far!
Gayle Sweeney's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Apples by Gayle Sweeney )
- The Sadness Of This World, Edward Kofi Louis
- I Could Be Out In The Rain, Vigna Mukund
- Equations: Friend Or Enemy, Guess Who
- Waiting for Dawn, Somanathan Iyer
- Confidence, Somanathan Iyer
- Doodling Without Purpose, Margaret Alice Second
- Nine persons are exempted from the disci.., Dr.V.K. Kanniappan
- Why like this?, Somanathan Iyer
- Humans we are!, Somanathan Iyer
- Summer, Naveed Khalid