Warmth in an earthen teacup; apple essence with sass,
Made even better with cookies in iced sprinkles for hats,
Stirred up with moving bark eulogies of cinnamon spice.
Gala those stemmed lollipops born of golden deliciousness,
Make mackintosh blush at wild granny smith’s sauciness.
Fragrant bushels of apples in Gaia’s confectioner’s press,
Simmered into the heart warming legacy of ancient trees.