A lady had a garden of oranges
oranges were green
her children were in teen

The garden was irrigated
oranges went yellow
her children needed 'fellow'

The garden entered spring
oranges got burr  
her children left her

The garden suffered autumn
though oranges were ripe
her endless tears... and nobody to wipe

The garden may love its fruits
and oranges may be orange  
but this poet wants revenge !