Disclaimer-I don't own anything
There was a forbidden apple tree,
She was beautiful as can be.
Her fruits, a deep red,
Her leaves a shimmering gold.
There was a King with a mane of gold and red,
In a land where animals talked,
And the trees danced.
He met by the name of Aslan.
He met a boy whose mother,
A wonderful lady,
Was incurably sick.
He heard of the golden tree,
With her fruits of healing.
With a request of one Apple,
The boy took the fruit to his mother.
The trees apple had cured his mother.
With nothing left but a core,
He buried the core in his back yard,
In thanks to its healing touch.
The boy tried to get back to the land,
Where he got the apple,
To thank the king,
For letting him take a single Apple.
He was unable to return to the magical land,
But the core he planted,
Grew into a magnificent oak tree,
With leaves of emerald and a trunk of gold.
The boy took care of the tree,
Until his dying breath,
When he told his son of the land,
Where he got the Apple from.
The son was a good man,
He took care of the tree in his fathers stead.
A storm unlike any other came,
And with a flash of lightning split the tree in two.
The son who loved the tree just like his father,
Used the wood.
He made a wardrobe of great grandeur,
It shined in the sun like a block of gold.
The son with his dying breath,
Told his son about the land and the wardrobe,
He told him to keep it safe.
The sons son left it under a tarp for protection.
A war started near the end of the sons sons life,
And he took four children into his care.
One day the youngest found the wardrobe,
She entered the great land of magic.
Her siblings didn't believe her.
She went to the wardrobe a second time.
Her brother followed her into the land.
He met a queen of evil but came home with his sister.
The eldest siblings didn't believe at first,
But when they found the land,
They saved the land
From the evil queen.
Many years later,
The children came back through the wardrobe,
To find themselves back in their bodies as children.
They left the wardrobe and closed it,
Never to open it again.
The wardrobe was forgotten by all,
Nobody knew of the words inscribed on the back
Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes in sight,
At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more,
When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death,
And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again.
When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone,
Sits at Cair Paravel in throne,
The evil time will be over and done.
And thus our story ends,
With a wardrobe of gold wood,
And it's story that spans millennia