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There was a crooked little apple tree standing
At the edge of a less travelled road
Winter had lasted for much too long
The wind howling
The snow covering its trunk
Then you came by
Your eyes were spring
It could feel the air changing
You brought the zephyr along
At first it was in disbelief
But you still stood there, looking at it
Quietly
It could feel something happening
Its inside softened
The sap rose
A change
It was afraid
Reluctant
But couldn't resist
Its nature – or you
Small buds appeared all over its branches
Your fingers caressed them gently
And they grew bigger by your touch
It felt vibrant
It shivered with joy
It was alive
It hadn't been for so long
Your eyes were summer
Delicate blossoms covered it
Your bees and butterflies had an orgy between their pink petals
Covering themselves with nectar
You put your nose against the sweet scent
Smelled – tasted
It felt proud
Worthy
Had no desire but to be there
For you to enjoy
It grew stronger
Leafing
It was at its peak
Radiant
And it felt wonderful
Having been a crooked little apple tree
For so long
Neglected
It was astonished
It couldn't wait for the ripening of its fruits
It wanted to be harvested by you
Wanted you to feed on what it could give
That would be its gift to you
Then you noticed a tiny worm
Crawling on a little, green fruitlet
You were disgusted
Your eyes were winter
You went away
There was no autumn
The environment changed rapidly
From intense sunlight
To the arrival of Siberian winds
Its foliage withered frostbitten to the ground
It shrank, decayed
Froze bitterly
No golden apples will ever be plucked
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