I Think That I Shall Never See
A Poem Lovely As The Banyan Tree....
It stands tall and sturdy
Telling us of unwavering strength
Evidenced by its toughened body.
It speaks with its huge trunk
As it holds itself firmly on the ground.
Its new-grown twigs
Otherwise known as sprigs
And branches, crowded with leaves,
Are shades and shields, replete with stories to weave,
The rings etched inside its trunks are proofs to show
Their age, their truths and tales from long ago.
Roots are both big and small... resembling us, our lives,
They are crisscrossed, entwined...they wrap the tree alive.
They spread deeper down and sideways, like an anchor
Giving extra hold that could last a hundred years or more.
One could dance and create verses on a windy summer day,
The same pace, as its branches bow, wave and sway.
It is a spacious tree house,
There is love, there is freedom, way above our brows,
Where sleepy, weary souls, are promised restful hours,
Like only a steady hammock could offer.
There is always shelter and warmth on cold days
Shade from the heat, when sun is ablaze.
It is too wide, our arms are too small a circle
To hold the thoughts, the countless words, like a cradle
To describe images of what's inside, above and underneath,
As we tell the story of the Banyan tree.
Underneath this tree are two lovers,
Fleeing... feeling light, like two soft feathers,
Flying, as if they could reach the heavens
But they always return to this tree, their haven,
Where their worries they disown.
Somewhere else lay, the problems they bemoan.
Here, they find the privacy they've always sought
In the outside world, it is a dream, or just a thought.
This is where their long poems start to unfold...
Their lives are rich with stories to be written, to be told.
.
For these two lovers
And other creatures,
Two feet or four, it doesn't really matter,
Those that fly, crawl or slither,
Through the night, there are those that wander,
Amongst the branches and crowding leaves they stick together
Before the spreading dark, they come, even those with tethers.
Sometimes they get wet when the rain seems forever,
And yet, they squeeze themselves in, they all gather,
Here, where they find peace...through all kinds of weather...
It is their refuge, their home,
It is like an over-sized dome,
A giant U M B R E L L A
They fondly call,
THE BANYAN TREE...
I can never be swayed:
I Think That I Shall Never See
A Poem Lovely As The Banyan Tree.....
Sally
Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
*** heavy rains, strong winds and the soft thudding of the curtains hitting the glass windows
were background sounds that accompanied me while writing and finishing this poem.***