Childhood tree

The tree I got to remember from childhood home, Awaiting, patiently for the sweet aroma, of the gardenia in bloom to lift the spirit. Oh, how it started off thriving in excitement. Growing to reach the skies , But it's like it had no direction. All the limbs overgrew each other. Sadly, in my knowledge of trees. To prune and keep it growing. All leaves had given up and turned brown. Death, had taking its appearance. Until, one day my mom came to visit, My brother had been telling her about trees, She, said do you have any pruning pliers. Why, yes I do they should be like new. So, my mom goes to work on this tree. Cutting away, I am like do your thing, But this tree is dead if wasn't now, Its definitely not gonna live through this. Stripped to bare minimal it seems standing naked. What would you know this tree had received, A new start in its fight to live and produce. And my job is to seek the knowledge, Of transformsing this tree of beauty , That brings a sweet aroma unto the nostrils.