Apple Poem

The Apple Of My Eye

I wished I was an apple
Hanging from a tree
I'd polish my skin and sparkle
In the hope that you'd pick me...
And when you bite into my flesh
I will help you to feel younger
A part of me will be with you
I will quench your thirst and hunger...

But if your to walk right on by
Then my shiny skin will wilt
So being Scottish I'll tart it up
And cover it with my kilt...
So either way Im that very apple
The one that you really should choose
Be quick to pick me from my branch
For if you dont? We both lose...