they get more attention with negativity
it echoed through the branches and thorns
staring from the declivity
are the dreams that no one mourns

in the quiet orchard where wishes grow
the bright ones open soft and slow
pale petals, clean as morning dew
admired by the passing few

but the dark ones, sharp with spite and ache
twist into thorns that will not break
they awaken only in the night
yearning for the orchard’s light

one night was coated with sudden frost
and a single bright wish was nearly lost
it slipped from a traveler’s open hand
and landed soft on the thorny land

rooted in the earth, unwilling to leave
a glowing wish began to conceive
a steady, warm, welcoming gold
shone against the bitter cold

The nearest thorns began to shake
their hardened points starting to flake
they could not harm what would not yield
for the purest dream was already sealed

the orchard’s keeper stood alone
surprised the light had held its own
nightmares still adorned the valley
but hopes and dreams endured.