Whenever, February comes around
and if I am still here breathing ,
I must shed a tear
Whenever the coldest month
of the year gets to me
I flashback to 1959 and
the bullock’s heart tree:

My vivid memories might seem a bit strange,
But according to sources, it’s where my Nana
buried my navel string: under the old bullock’s heart tree

The bullock’s heart trees shall forever lived on
So are my memories of that secret place
the sparrows and the blackbirds shall
  forever feast upon the ripened fruits it produces

The broad leaves shall shelter the wild doves,
from the tropical sun and rain,
However, how strange my memories might seems
whenever, February arrives and I am still
breathing, I must shed a tear.
because, I am forever blessed ..Happy birthday to me.