Whence the tiny girl did cry…to the poem said I, “Don’t cry sweet pea.. you see the bee, dance in the race? Full of grace and off to make some honey.”

Asked the tree to the flower, “Do you charge by the hour, for the sweet supplies you feed her?”

“No” said the flower, “she brings to my heart the messages sent from my lover.”

Now in full bloom, but soon you’ll see the rich gift, God has in-store for thee, will grow into a fruit and ripen.

As the tear she dried, she could not hide, the smile that broke, from beneath that cloudy exterior.

“Now look”, said I, ” Sweet jam will come, for even the bruised fruit is used in God’s great sandwich.”