The Apple Tree Poem by Micronjan (also use name micron)

Sunlight spilled through the branches, golden and bright,
A small boy clambered, knees scratched, heart light.
Leaves whispered secrets, wind tugged at his hair,
The world was endless, and he had not a care.

Teenage hands no longer gripped the bark as before,
Books and errands waited just outside the door.
The tree still stood, patient, swaying in the breeze,
A quiet witness to growing pains and unease.

Laughter returned in tiny, hurried feet,
Children climbed higher, their joy bittersweet.
Red apples dropped, rolling across the grass,
And he watched them grow up as seasons passed.

Years drifted onward, the house fell to hush,
Echoes of voices faded, footsteps and rush.
Alone, he touched the rough bark, smelled the ripe air,
The tree held the years, every joy, every care.

Silvered now, he sank into the shade's soft embrace,
Eyes tracing the branches, memories filling the space.
Though he no longer climbs, he can still feel free,
A boy and a man, beneath the old apple tree.