It was a small little thing
Between us a silent game
I wished it ‘good morning’,
As it brushed my window frame.
It swayed happily at me
Softly holding onto its root
The chance-grown guava tree
I thought would never bear fruit.
‘Good morn, Guavo, how are you?
My window frame, did it hurt?’
‘Nay, I’m fine, had my cup of dew,
I really made a good start.’
I loved this cute little thing
To ask it ‘how do you do?’
Loved the undernourished sapling
Why I really had no clue.
After sometime it started to fade
Keeping relations is not so easy
‘Guavo’ disappeared from my head
I forgot the lean sickly tree.
Then one day my wife came along
A big round guava she brought me
‘Taste how it is, the plant is fine and strong,
It’s from your friendly tree.’
It came back to me inside and deep
Our time-buried sweet story
Guavo hasn’t forgotten our friendship
I must run to it and say sorry.
There it stood proud and high
A full-grown guava tree
Swaying in the wind, saying ‘hi,
I haven’t forgotten thee’.