There’s a tree, so called momtree.
So huge that I can’t see it fully.
Where I love to play around,
Where I sits often to get some breeze,
Where I’m secured while at hard rain,
Where thunders fail to enter,
Where the fruits I like, yield and ripe.
Where I’m child and free always.
I’m so sad that it gives shade,
Wide for all, every being beneath. Not just for me
I’m so glad that it stays firm,
So that I could hang and swing.
And laugh at the ripe fruit fall.
I’m afraid of the strong wind that shakes it,
Which seems for me like earthquake.
On the next moment of peace,
I could see the wind makes a shift,
Just taking away my Momtree’s yellow leaves.
Sometimes I feel like watering it.
Being anxious of its growth,
But I am doubtful about my cup of water and it’s highness.
It’s for sure that it nurtures itself and the world.