In somber twilight's quiet embrace,
An orphaned child with tear-streaked face,
Gazed upon a golden fruit,
A symbol of solace, grief to mute.
The fruit hung high, a treasure divine,
A mother's love, that once did shine,
A beacon bright of memories dear,
Its glow bespoke of love sincere.
Alas, no arms to hold, to guide,
A void where once a heart resided,
In wistful...
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