Family Trees

Family trees are funny things, they grow from many roots.
Some grow tall and thin and lean, some spread lots of shoots.

The favoured trees all blossom, groomed perfection as they grow;
The dead wood soon forgotten, overshadowed by the glow.

The cultured trees stand stately in the ordered orchard rows,
Their tendered lives are fertilized by goodness only knows.

The fruit they bear is polished and stands out in market place;
They can't afford a blemish and will stand for no disgrace.

The wilder woods grow far and wide and fight for pure survival;
Compete with weeds and undergrowth amid unwanted rival.

Their limbs untrimmed are gangly, they bend and twist awry,
The fruit they bear is burdened by the carrion and fruit-fly.

The weaker limbs are shattered, lay defiant on the ground,
Their fruits condemned to gutters in the race of life unsound.

But the frail grow strong and battle on with fortitude and fervour,
They never fail in wind or gail, noticed by the keen observer.

The weak are strong, and linger on and never bend or sway
Distinction shown by independance, forever and a day.