My roof is the sky.
The highway passing by,
the decades that just fly
in time's lullaby.
With time, as I grew,
from a seed - the tree concealed,
to a tree - the seed revealed,
many a sun I bore on my hood,
many a storm I withstood,
many rains lashed me wet,
many autumns undressed me naked.
One such morning, a bunch of kids
came under my shade
and played pranks they'd long cherish
as their escapade.
Some clambered up a branch
and tied it with a string
and then enjoyed themselves
with my fruit and their swing.
How I wish,
I could move around like this.
One such afternoon, a couple in love
came under my shade.
Away from the crowded town
their car had sped.
She uncoifed her tresses
and in the warm breeze let them sway.
The look on his face said it all
as he had a million poems to say.
He looked around to give the spies a miss
and then on her lips, planted a loving kiss.
She blushed, and into his arms coyly cuddled,
as in the lonely shade they canoodled.
How I wish,
I could express my love like this.
One such evening, a few old men
trudged under my shade.
The blade of their life
now had a blunt edge.
As materialism lost its sheen,
they pondered over 'What does life mean?'
Nostalgia rushes their blood flow,
resplendent visage in twilight's glow.
The state of mankind makes them upset.
the pregnant gaze at the distant sunset.
How I wish,
for these oldies, I knew what to wish.
One such night, a few men came
under my lunar shade.
They mumbled sweet nothings and
pulled out an axe and a spade.
Leaves rustled as I shuddered;
they were here to slain and deracinate.
A piercing blow of the axe,
how I wish,
I could evade.
Alas!! I moved, far from that highway,
but only after my life was taken away.
Now I'm a chair here, a sofa there, a table far away
The tree that was on the highway.
How I wish,
I could've moved alive in one piece.
Now I hear that in my place
runs the widened highway.
For man's unending need
I had to give way.
One more from nature's bequest,
sacrificed for man's mad quest.
Now on the highway
there aren't many trees
for kids to climb on,
for love birds to take cover,
for oldies to pull over.
How I wish,
there were more trees
to tell stories like these.
