Couples can meet here, wondering at me,
My rosy apples, red as their cheeks.
Couples can meet here, away from others,
Those who would gossip these couples' secrets.

My green little leaves, showering their hair,
Happy and flowing, in my embrace.
My green little leaves, sheltering friends,
From the wind and the rain, as couples hold close.

My bare sturdy branches, supporting their weight,
Laughing and smiling, no one else comes.
My bare sturdy branches, sharing their pain,
As one must bid farewell. Their tears flow freely.

Their trust lies with me. Their secrets. Their tales.
Such a long time I've been here, biding my time.
Their trust lies with me, their knowledge and love.
Not long 'til they come though, their axe and my death.

Now no one comes here but old friends and children,
memories are shared now between the old and young.
All that is left to see is a wide stump, no tree.
No apples still to admire, no branches to support.
But I still have my memories, and the many dear couples.