Love and apples

How bright this autumn day appears,
So many apples on the branches here.
In this life, I met you, my dear,
But what to do next, I'm unclear.

These apples need a Newton's touch,
But we're not capable of such.
Besides, there are tons of them to clutch,
Where to find those scientists much?

Perhaps the wind will lend a hand,
Prioritizing where they'll land.
Who will fall from the branches grand,
Who will wait for ripeness firsthand.

Whose doubts will be pierced through and through,
Leaving them with naught but residue.
Who will wait for adventures anew,
Anticipating lightning to ensue.

And who will gather them with care,
And sew the sky with thread so rare?
Just like in love, who will be aware,
Why go on, why even dare?

No one collects the shades of blue,
The sun, like leaves, has bid adieu.
Whom shall we ask about love's debut,
For it remains in scarce value.

The coals hiss in the grill's embrace,
Replacing the sun's warm grace.
Without you, there's no day to chase,
I fail to grasp summer's trace.

Love is like summer, rain it holds,
Unnoticed until our shivers unfold.
As summer fades and chills take hold,
Its essence is lost, or so I'm told.