The Oak Tree

Written by: Piyush Kaushal

He stood alone on the hill, through dusk to dawn His roots dug deep, deeper into thoughts Thoughts of sunlight, and the rays of hope For his progenitors, for the leaves, the branches Thoughts of monsoon, when summers pinched And of winters, When rains soaked his tears He was always thinking, for he was The Oak Tree He was proud of the leaves, that spawned his shadow He endowed branches, that unified his euphoria The roots were his strength, his indelible self The only hope, that touched his revere He always loved them, for he was The Oak Tree He braved ages, and the swindling time He fought the storm, the drought and the quivers To strangers he bore resilience, a resilience against the blistering swelter He was always like this, for he was The Oak Tree His leaves changed color, much like the weather The branches tore his skin, he wanted them to brave his age Deserted he stood, with his shadow For his good days, for leaves and birds and greenery He always waited, for he was The Oak Tree There was a friend, a brother a father, and a lover for there was “The Oak Tree…”