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THE ABANDONED ORCHARD
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In the prime of its heyday the orchard produced
Big perfect red apples by the bushel
But now the orchard has been ignored for a long time
Weeds grow, lichen spots the bark, rot has taken hold
Of some branches, yet
The bees visit the delicate buds in the springtime
Songbirds sing from the branches that were once weighed down
Heavy with crimson bounty
Yes, apples still grow, not big and red and perfect perhaps
But when picked and the bad spots removed
They are still oh so sweet.
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