Every spring he would go out in his garden and count every petal of his apple flowers. His face would glow in pink just like his apple flowers with an excitement for his fruits in fall. But every fall he would be disappointed because he could harvest only a couple of apples, which unfortunately were not enough to make his favorite apple pie.
He would stare at the tree every winter hoping for more fruit the coming year, but mostly he would stare at the tree because he loved it very much.
One day he met a painter, who showed just as much excitement about the tree as he would. The poet would write the painter poetries to talk about love and life and his apple tree and the painter would reply with her paintings.
As years went by and the tree would bear as just few apples as the previous years, the poet lost touch with the painter. He would spend more time thinking about the painter than he would about his precious tree.
Then one day a mailbox arrived at his door. There was no name of the sender written on the box. There wasn't his address on either to tell him if the mail was even for him.
Eagerly but scaredly he would open the box.Tears rolled down on his cheeks. Something very warm ran through his chest. In the box he found two paintings that almost delivered the scent of the apple flowers and apples with them.
A long gone painter friend didn't forget about the poet. He had been always in her thoughts and prayers. On her paintings she painted his apple tree full of apples, enough to make a thousand apple pies for him to enjoy with his friends and families.
On the back of the painting she titled it "I don't know how you don't see this" with a little lovely note that said in her terrible and messy handwriting "Abundance has been always within itself. Always look inside and you'll find everything you are looking for. Love, the Painter"
Amazingly enough the following year his apple tree had more apples he could count. He made then one special apple pie and ate one slice by himself with his painter friend in his heart. "It was the best one I made", he said, when suddenly he heard the knock on his door. There stood his painter friend.
"You are my best poem ever." said the poet and he felt the abundance within his heart for the first time in his life.