The Tree
The tree stood outside my home, I felt it looked at me.
The tree stood outside my home,
I felt it looked at me,
I felt it, it spoke to me in wordless tones.
I questioned the tree and it did not answer my query,
But from that day I began writing a poem on it.
The tree was tall and swayed on the breeze,
I felt it was old,
No idea was formed of a date,
But old, it was old.
I began writing verse in a journal,
The tree swayed and watched as I wrote.
I wrote about the tree without a name,
And my writing trailed off.
One day, the tree spoke,
It said its name was Oaky,
I laughed. It was a joke.
I gathered my things and walked off,
Leaving it there.
I forgot about the Oaky,
The fun game I played,
I was busy,
I forgot.
I heard a voice one morning,
Some men cutting trees in my backyard,
I turned to where the tree was and it was gone,
I looked all around me,
Nothing was there.
Nature seemed to be silent.
I turned and went home,
I didn’t write that day.
But, I couldn’t forget the tree forever.
I planted a sampling today in the same spot,
Where the tree stood,
I knew that one day, the tree would be back,
and this time I’ll be there to protect it always.
About the Creator
Srinidhi Ranganathan
I hold a degree in English Literature. I love reading books and writing is my passion. "Dream of Rainbows" is my first book for children. I love to write fiction, non-fiction and blog articles on popular topics. Happy reading!
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