Close to our ancestral home
Is an ancient champak tree
It now stands almost leafless n’ bare
With its face turned to the sun and sky

      Once from far, everyone could see
This lush green Champak tree
It stood in all beauty and grace
And carpeted the ground in fallen blooms

Its lovely blossoms were so redolent
Like tube roses, heady and fragrant
In its dark and leafy glade
How as children, we sat and played

Men weary of work in its sprawling shade
Were sheltered from the heat of midday sun
Once it was a bower of sylvan ease
And on its boughs, birds merrily sang

Rustled in wind and shaken in storm
It braved the inclement weather all these years
With its roots boring deep into the ground
Nothing could uproot the tree from its base

How many stories it has to tell
How many robins roosted in its verdure
      How many fledglings took wings into the sky,
From the tiny nests built on its twigs

Now its ancient trunk and gnarled branches
Proclaim sadly that it is about to wither
The tree has just turned itself into
A ghostly shadow of its former self

But the fragrance of these champak flowers
Which still bless the tree in one and two
As if determined to proclaim themselves
Continue to perfume the surrounding air

This tree is much like my ancestral home
Once it was the seat of life and bounty
Now it stays desolate and empty
Spreading memories sweet and fragrant

What solid shelter the house once gave
And how my parents fulfilled their task
Putting all they had into making it a sweet home
That nurtured three generations of our family!