They say there was a great wood here
The trees were great and tall
No tree stood like another
Nor did a leaf share its hue.
And through the wood there ran a river
Sparkling bright and clear.
Fish of every kind flourished in the water
And life abounded in the place untouched by man.

The trees were of a certain kind
That produced a red ripe fruit
And chance would have that a traveler
Weary and in need of rest
Took refreshment from a tree
And found himself fulfilled.

He gathered in his pack all that he could
And went along his way
Where he spread, to all he found
Word of the Applewood.

Slowly the people trickled in
And marveled at the trees
But as Humans do, with all things new,
They claimed it for their own

The trees were robbed of their fruit
And soon it looked quite bleak.
They deemed the lumber good for building
And conquered the Applewood.
Greedily their axes fell
Upon the sturdy trees.
The thousand ringed trunks of old
Were no match for the hardened steel.

Houses were erected where trunks had stood
And the river was held at bay.
The earth dried up and cracked like stone
And no fauna persevered.

It’s spring today
And on a hill
There stands the last apple tree
On an overhanging branch
Far above the ground,
There lies a single bloom,
A spot of white amidst the brown.
Alas, like a tear rolls off the cheek
The flower, floats to the ground.