Fried Apple Pies Poem by Carolyn Ford Witt

Fried Apple Pies



FRIED APPLE PIES
Our orchard, small and scraggly,
Only apple trees we grew
With Jonathan's and Winesap's,
Granny Smith threw in a few.

We'd pick them when the blush was on
Before the frost was due.
We'd peel and slice, add spices rare,
Those apples we would stew.

Then roll the biscuit dough out thin
And a dollop of apples belied,
Folded over and sealed real good
Then in the pan, it's fried.

This special treat we'd cherish,
When the cold of winter blew
And snow stood on the corn shocks
In the pictures Daddy drew.

So far away the Spring seemed
As in cold, Animals had to be fed.
We thanked the Lord for plenty...
Thanked Him for our daily bread.

But Sundays were the best of times
There under Mama's loving eyes,
When she graced our Dinner table
With her cherished Fried Apple Pies........


Author: Carolyn Ford Witt
2-28-07

By Ms. Caroline


© 2007 Ms. Caroline (All rights reserved)

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