The Apple Tree

In a small field by a tower, Grew a sapling next to flowers. Its own petals bloomed this day, A promise of fruits without delay. A cherry tree young and sweet, All the other trees it'd greet, And together sway in the breeze, Bathing in the rustling of leaves. A lemon tree young and cynical, Its branch growth was liminal, It had begun without a start, Made yellow stones to never depart. No further fruits it bore, Crooked tree now an eyesore, Floating among the other trees, Rotten fruit enriched the seas. Its branches grew full of hope, They grew down and around, In the water theyd soak, Round and constrict the trunk. It released the creaking bark, Among company it feared, Their differences were stark, Then the sound was seared Into its roots deep down, The creaking of its neighbors crown, As the constrictor claimed Itself as it strained To view the cherries once more, It too had bore. A memory lost to both, It was the price of growth. An apple tree lone and empty, Produced no fruits for any, Since its neighbor parted in two, Had left it without hope to sow.