It would mimic the giggles
And laughter of the kids played
In its thick shade, of which only
A memory hangs on her aged boughs.
It would sing the songs
Of the lovers that once met
Under the cover of plush leaves
Whose whispers linger on her silent boughs.
It would narrate the tale
Of the tireless miner
Who rested awhile between work,
Moisture of whose sweat wetted her barren boughs.
It would call out to people
To pitch tents and begin life
For her roots go digging deep for hope
And life is all green again on her withered boughs.
Seema Aarella
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/if-only-this-tree-could-speak/
