Pick me
Oh my goodness gracious me!
I am an apple on a tree
I'm ripe and red and swinging free
all on a sunny Sunday.
Here I am just right for pickin'
and there you are all far away
dreaming of a fair young maiden
while I dangle and I sway.
Don't you hear me swaying gently?
Don't you smell my fine perfume?
Dare I call you, beg you pick me,
all on a sunny day in June.
Daffodils and honey suckle
Birdies singin' in the trees
I am but a little apple,
pretty apple in a tree.
poem by Ruth Walters
Added by Poetry Lover
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