Digital Dimdima

POEM

From the Diaries of a Tree

"Dadi come here." said the 8 year old,
"It's too hot there, under this it's cold. "
I hear this conversation,
She says that I am a beautiful part of the creation.
I provide play area to his grandson,
I become the strong support for grandpa to lean on.
He sits here when the moon's rising and sun's gone,
I saw his children from the time they were born.
Children gather around on Sunday's,
To listen to Dadi's stories,
I spread the fragrance of my flowers,
Which the granddaughter loves.
Dadi takes flowers for puja everyday,
"I love this tree" I hear her say.
I stand tall here, my roots deep below,
My treetop wanting to touch the sky above.
I served generations,
Having conversations,
With the neighbor's been tree,
Which was beside me,
But last week it had to beat the cruel axe,
They cut it for space.
What sin has my dear friend done,
It provided shaded and oxygen.
I stood tall since years,
But now my nerves are filled with fears,
For I don't know when I have to face the brutal axe.

D. Ashrita
Class 9
Bhavans Public school
Jubilee hills Hyderabad

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