the apple tree

there was the apple tree,
the one that stood behind the house,
and in the wind swayed,
danced even,
its ornamentchens jiggling
silently
heavily
on the sad branches.

it was the christmas tree
standing outside my window,
and in the cold shuddered,
moaned even,
the fruit already picked,
painfully
broken off
from the sad branches.

it is not a spring tree,
winter has left this house
it stands still
silent even
no change do i see. still
silent
heavy
appear the sad branches.