A Poor Man's Tale
A Poor Man’s Tale
I wasn’t born handsome, or into affluence.
But I inherited my orchard trees.
In their shade I petitioned my prayers and pleas.
Off the vine, I lived in opulence.
Before long, the orchard wasn’t enough for me.
And I sought certain maidens traipsing through the glen.
When my desire for them started, I know not when.
I desired to share the fruits of my orchard for free.
A brought a basket filled with apple and grape.
She stared at me with intoxicated gaze.
Her ethereal words left me in a daze.
(A hypnotic trance I could not escape).
I implored her to come back and eat at my table.
For there, endless fruit we could share.
Of the travails of a covenant, I do not care.
And for eternity we can exchange rhyme and fable.
She gave me a look of naïve horror.
She exclaimed, you goblin, depart from me!
Stunned, I didn’t know what my offence could be.
She insisted that I was a creature of disorder.
Though she was pretty, she lacked reason.
And I a fool, gave up my wealth.
For a silly lady I ruined my health.
Now my baskets are empty, and my trees are out of season.
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