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The magical oak tree
I cannot sleep so through the aperture I look,
The crescent shining a marvellous bright
The scenery as if straight out of a book,
The sound of the crickets in the dead of the night,
A stoic sound surrounding my house
its calmness has disturbed my placidity
For i am now on the look for its whereabouts
My instincts guide me, a silent curiosity
Feeling its presence, I extend my hand
Brushing against the bark, a silent demand
This tree, a titan at a hundred and fifty feet grand
humming and hawing,
Am I a friend or am I a foe?
Its judgmental eyes gazing right into my soul
It seems to like me, for I am now allowed to see
This magical domain, belongs to this magical oak tree
The foal, the fawn, the big and the small
All sleep in comfort, beside this indestructible wall
Upon the talk of heaven, we look up to the azure
However at this moment I realize, this tree
Is exactly what we are looking for
For its perfection makes it seem like a martinet
Its sinewy branches holding those emerald green fronds
The moon's rays forming the beanstalks silhouette
I am now sitting with my back against my new crony
And in the dark I wonder, how I came here alone
But no longer do I feel lonely.
Copyright ©
Atharv Mehta
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