The Custard Apple
Thokchom Dhanashree*
There's a tree
A custard apple:
At the East- West in the corner.
All two years it grew bouncing,
Sometimes on Holidays and Sundays
Grooming and grafting to all hearts content.
The shed leaves left no worry
For autumn is short and was fed listlessly.
Each time after vacation
It boosts its twig in numbers.
Though little but feebly
Mending and tidying its foot.
If in a jab it may root off
But the longingness to care,
Ease the hollow walls.
It seems still.
In the sunshine and shower,
It fluttered to peep through the fences
Few time fungus extended its arrival
Who may say: that it is interlinked for its growth.
Someday the stink ants climbed
Noway which food to collect.
I wonder during day's end
If the smoky scent may chased all.
The fences then grew short
Sagging along the branches.
From distance it drew attention
In its maiden beauty
To reveal the cause of its presence.
When stood near after a wide departure
I saw
The tender leaf hid behind its fruit.
Now it bore wistfully to add,
The wholesome of a fruit
Which I long to pluck with own fingers
And feel the pride as governess'
To all my heart
To say someday-
Nature needs to nurture
Much alike............. .
* Poem written by Thokchom Dhanashree for e-pao.net
The poem is with Writers Forum , Imphal and can be reached at dhanashree_00(at)rediffmail(doT)com
This poem was webcasted on September 06 2015.
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