This is a poem that Hope wrote when she was 11 years old. It was a small memento to the beautiful process that the apple goes through before it reaches your hands. Hope is now 16 years old and becoming quite an accomplished writer. In fact, she is writing our newsletters this year and you will see some of her creative writing skills in our future newsletters.

The Apple

By Hope Abigail Hanson

It all begins with one small stud
Then it turns to one small bud
Then the bud will burst apart
To show the green that’s in its heart

Then it starts to grow and grow
Turns to blossoms white as snow
After that, there comes the bee
To pollinate the fruit to be

Soon the petals all blow down
To make a fragrant floor of down
After that they lose their smell
And the base begins to swell

Soon the swell will be a ball
That’s green and is a fruit that’s small
And finally it turns bright red
So big it hangs by just a thread

Then it’s taken from the tree
As the fruit it’s meant to be
Then it’s gone, eaten by one
Who knew if he didn’t, it soon would be gone

The Fruit was eaten, gone forever
But it was made by One who was clever
For He made that apple for us to enjoy
Even if only for one girl or boy.