As I walk past a lonesome mango tree
I hear a sorrowful voice, I pause
"I wait with open arms, stretched
into the dark, empty sky
for someone to come to me
in this dreary autumn night."
"Once these scented arms were filled
with sweet fruits, green yellow, red;
Tiny twittering birds danced to and fro,
squeaking squirrels played hide and seek.
Bouncy boys adorned my arms,
I heard echoes of thrilled laughter,
then an abrupt shriek, I would realize-
a little red ant had licked a lovely lad.
Maybe the child tasted sweeter,
the nectar of hundred mangoes in him.
I saw relief in a traveler's eyes
as he gazed gladly at me, a
a smile beamed through the clouds
of his weary, clammy face."
"Now there are neither fruits
nor bubbly boys, nor birds around.
Here comes the ghostly wind
whispering fearful words, she blows
and brushes away my last leaf
into the heap of memories below.
Colors have vanished, the sweetness too
I have become bare, just a solemn tree."
With a face painted with sympathy
I slowly tread along
to hear rustling voice below,
the pale leaves pleading not to go.
But I know, I should leave now,
I find no reason to remain.
However, I will return one day
to see the sweet smiling tree;
then she'll hold many little kids, moreover-
