- Once there was an orchard small of four trees in a row.
- Planted by a gardener, from seedlings she did grow.
- Nurtured, pruned, and shepherded, a sight now to behold,
- Underneath their branches wide, four stories did unfold.
- Fruit upon the first was dark and light and soursweet.
- Life bestowed for years on end till children wisdom eat.
- Blossomed mind but death inside with flame and blade depart.
- Memories are buried deep, replaced by broken heart.
- Second tree bore bitter fruit, a painful, bloody red.
- Nurtured by the root of kings through weighted vine and bread.
- Gardener in garden dark donating strength to will,
- Straightening the woollen back, the harder coming still.
- Third tree bare, stripped of its leaves, its shadow growing more,
- Howling winds and lightning flash along with thunder’s roar.
- Piercing fruit falls to the ground, causing trembling quake.
- Friends and family, followers, and everyone forsake.
- Honey fruit on number four was beck’ning from the page,
- Turning keys within the locks to free the prayers from cage.
- Once again, the gardener loomed, but this time all ablaze.
- With a motion of her hand, she opened heaven’s rays.
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