From my heart extends the dark
dry branches, trying to ooze their thin
heads out, longing to embrace the
old oak tree standing alone.
Patiently waiting for the winds of
autumn to strip him naked, before
he goes for a long hibernation in the
silvery snow flakes. The branches of
my heart eager to coil around his
withered ancient moldy bark
The many grim moonless
nights, when I would lay in his hollow
lap as he stretched his wrinkled branches
to run across my tangled hair to adorn
it with saplings of leaves and embrace
me tight in its gigantic roots, showering
me with his many benevolences, purifying
my soul of sins of generations with
a delicate touch of chastity on my bosoms
For I love him with all my heart, I just love him!
And he always loves me back.
Numerous silent tears that I shed as it held,
me high on its shaky branches,
Branches like a silver beard of an old
prophet, his yellowish green leaves
whirl like a Sufi-Darvesh on the
Melody of golden flute of hollow winds.
A final good-bye to him before he
is exiled to the remote lands of winter.
A final cry till we meet again
he with his younger leaves and I with an
older heart but one day I know I’ll
merge in his roots forever, till then
I’ll pray in the shrine of my tears and
wait for his safe return.