My grandma planted a seed of joy, and it grew to be a family tree, but prior to the remarkable development, my grandpa nurtured the seed with wisdom, and every morning the foliage sprouted, with a promising colour of chlorophyll, unpollinated flowers danced in their purity, the flowers of kismet and blessings, as if haunted, bees never huddled, except butterflies like tiny angels, which anointed the stem, so it could grow longer and stronger, no whirlwind could sweep it away, the branches and twigs have become mature now, mature enough to hold the fruits, fruits endowed with wisdom, and I'm one with the gift of poetry, now my grandparents are seated, under the roots of the family tree, ensuring it's never faliing.