Widowed Trees: A poem by Nisha Tandon
I stop short in my steps on my morning walk
And trace the faint shadow of the tree in a glance
The widowed branches upon it enchant me
Celebrating solitude in deep silence and a perfect stance
The eerie silence amidst unfrequent winds haunt me
The barren tree is forsaken and feels betrayed today
Abandoned by ornaments that once bedecked its boughs
The withered fronds have slowly blown away
The cotton clouds make a perfect backdrop
A solitary bird perched on a branch, perhaps reminiscing
Sunbeams randomly sieve through the netted branches
Peering mischievously and rhythmically dancing
A wave of sympathy engulfs me
As I see the tree stand vulnerable and alone
No companion to share its forgotten tales with
Forlorn and to strangers alas baring its soul
The pride has befallen with each passing season
This mighty giant was once in its full glory
Yet it stands strong, being an inspiration
This mesmerizing and enigmatic naked tree
And trace the faint shadow of the tree in a glance
The widowed branches upon it enchant me
Celebrating solitude in deep silence and a perfect stance
The eerie silence amidst unfrequent winds haunt me
The barren tree is forsaken and feels betrayed today
Abandoned by ornaments that once bedecked its boughs
The withered fronds have slowly blown away
The cotton clouds make a perfect backdrop
A solitary bird perched on a branch, perhaps reminiscing
Sunbeams randomly sieve through the netted branches
Peering mischievously and rhythmically dancing
A wave of sympathy engulfs me
As I see the tree stand vulnerable and alone
No companion to share its forgotten tales with
Forlorn and to strangers alas baring its soul
The pride has befallen with each passing season
This mighty giant was once in its full glory
Yet it stands strong, being an inspiration
This mesmerizing and enigmatic naked tree
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