Beneath the wild sky,
Here I stay in the busiest of cities.
I am the tree outside your glazed windows,
Swaying away to every puff of the wind.

Bazillions of times, the trees along the road I stay,
Have perished, and the rest of us mourned in peace.
The serenity of the place has never been the same,
Since the olive green leaves fell from me.

In between the cruel whispers of the polluting cars,
We had to arch our dainty branches and wait,
Wait for the silence of the night,
To breathe and to live.

Eternal is the aroma of my blooming flowers,
syncopating a serenade through the branches and leaves, they rustle.
We are that gorgeous and glorious quarter of the city,
But we were secluded without another thought.

A couple of months it had been since the country went on lockdown,
We stopped hearing the evil honking.
We could finally stand up straight,
With our rough leafy branches finally becoming merrier.

As people started disappearing,
Disappeared the blanket of hazy fumes beneath the sky.
As the cars and flights started disappearing,
The oxygen started restoring.

As my branches squashed up against the glass panes of my human’s home,
what I saw was astonishing!
I saw togetherness in the era of the wicked smartphones and what I saw was love,
Love of my master’s age, the love that existed 100 years ago, which reappeared now.

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