Equidistant they stood all in line,
A symmetry destined before they hit their prime.
A plentiful harvest they produced each day,
Some thirty while some hit a nine.
All in all the farmer seemed at ease
To see his dear areca doing just fine.
There stood a coconut tree advanced in years
Who seemed morose by the changes with time.
The love and care once shown for the coconuts
He bore had now reduced to a dime.
Bewildered he wondered if it had to do
With the taste of the water or just the size at large.
None of the areca would testify to the this truth so wretched,
They knew they were all just puppets in this mess.
Only the human who stood at the end afar
Knew the difference in profit he got from areca nuts in the farm.
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