The Tree That Never Outgrew Love
A cloud for every time
I reminisce, plenty enough to stir a storm;
Yet never enough to uproot the pink-apple tree
That stood tall in my neighbour's backyard .
A shadow of one-
you, me and the pink fruit tree, we spilt
all our secrets under:
soaked the bark, as we feasted on them
blissfully the once sweet sourness,
now sour memories.
I visited home after a year,
(Or probably a decade?)
No football ground,
no creaky swing sets
As moss infested houses sat
upon them, smirking.
With change spat everywhere,
Relieved I was to see;
Master of its own- The pink fruit tree!
A gust of memories sprang upon me
As I I heard the pink fruit tree recite
To the shrubs, guava trees,
some birds after flight;
The song of two best friends
Who taught it the art of sharing
Whose laughter opened its tendrils
Whose love was constant as Sirius himself,
And how its privileged twigs
traced muddy blueprints
Of building houses next to each other,
With no hiccups for life to wade through.
Motionless, I left quietly
Wearing a smile bittersweet.
For if not you or me,
At least the pink fruit tree
Keeps watering the
wilted golden memories.
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