The Apples

I took a road trip to an apple farm
with my dying dad.
He wanted to see the orchards
and pick some apples. 
A father-son, last hurrah kind of
thing. We talked about stuff
I can't remember along the way.
Finally found an exit
and headed toward the mountains.
We turned here and there
up the winding road until
we finally reached the farmhouse.
When we got out of the car,
we saw the dirt road that led
to the orchards was gated
with a sign that said closed.
The gift shop happened to be open,
so we walked in and looked 
around. I bought an apple slicer 
as a souvenir to remind me
of what could have been.