Apple wood

I have a piece of  apple wood
I have my whittling knife.
I want to make a gift for you,
The best gift of your life.

Apple wood is sweet and sound
The tree grew here by me.
I chose the best part I could find
For the virtue of the tree.

 

 

Apple wood is a rare gift
We must make something whole,
For if you touch my apple wood
You can feel its soul.

 

The sweetness of the fruit of love
Is there within the wood.
So all who touch the apple here
Will be moved to good.

 

What knowledge did the tree conceal
That Eden was destroyed?
Was this a good metaphor?
Should it have been employed?

 

Sweet apples fall at random now
As autumn time has come.
And many Newton’s, all unknown,
Shall learn from every one.