A True Story

This ain't a mere poem....
Writing Straight from my heart...


I brought up an orchard,
The trees very small in number.
It was more than an orchard,
Very dear & more than timber.

Watering the trees,
They did grow well.
Giving me what I wanted,
And a heaven to dwell.

Of all the trees,
There was one of special care.
For the sake of which,
The others I would spare.

In a special routine,
My orchard I did water.
Regular was the special one,
Why so?, even I did ponder.

Between me & my favourite,
Came another tree in the middle.
Without knowing wrong & right,
With it, I did meddle.

Without second thoughts,
The second tree I did cut.
Forgetting the fact that,
Even that belonged to me but.

From my orchard,
What I wanted was shade.
Believed whole-heartedly,
For this the special one was made.

The special tree,
Did provide me shady-shade.
Below which,
As a swan I did wade.

If winter comes,
Can Spring be far behind?
Its vice-versa,
Didn't strike to my innocent mind.

The trees of my orchard,
Were all decidious.
Shedding of leaves,
Were hence obvious.

My care to the special one,
Had always been keen.
Hence that one tree,
Did stand evergreen.

After a night's sleep,
I did wake up.
All I could see was,
My whole orchard messed up.

Ran to my favourite,
Skipping a heart-beat.
Missing it there,
The poor chap wept.

The special tree,
Had started to move.
I had no choice,
But to bestow.

Desperate for shade,
I didn't know what to do.
Suddenly giving me shelter was,
You know who?

It was the same,
Which I had hurt & cut.
Lot better it would've been,
To stay had I let.

Wish I could,
Turn back the time.
As I've badly hurted,
What now I call the sublime.



Sublime...