He gave her a Tiffany box
With ribbon blue
He thought she was a fox
With fur so true

She gave a tie of lace
With diagonal stripes
She thought it matched his place
Where he sat a smoked his pipes

From the box an orchard sprang
The ribbons become flags of joy
From every corner children sang
The box itself became a toy

The tie become a tug of war
With stripes turning straight
In and out of every door
There was no time to stop and wait

By the very end of time
He bought another box and cried
Worth every nickel and dime
Yet, the foxy bride had died

Six feet under an epiphany box
With ribbons torn
An orchard sprang among the rocks
Where he sat with his newborn