From my open window I am always able to see
my best friend; silent, graceful & steady.
From dawn to dusk I know it'll stand.
Unmoved, undeterred, elegant yet not grand.

Often we exchange news the Neem and I.
His soft and soothing, mine brash and wild.
Long evenings we spend in mute conversation.
While I sketch him on canvas without hesitation.

Numerous years I suspect have passed since it was a seed.
Endless days, countless nights; in numbers they proceed.
Sometimes I wish it would share its colorful tales.
Of gentle rains, brilliant summers or precarious gales.

Its leafy boughs are weighed down with age.
Still they offer cool shade for many a sage.
The knotted trunk is firm and strong.
Enduring sunshine, rain, wind and storm.

The ever green top murmurs a sad dirge it seems.
Of some long lost battle or a lover's requiem.
Its foliage is home to a family of crows.
A wandering eagle and a couple of jackdaws.

At times a weary peddler too can be spied.
Lazing in the protective shade it provides.
A black cat often lies sprawling on its branch.
Eying the baby crows, probably waiting for a chance.

From inside my spacious room I can see the world go by.
Children laughing, travelers walking, moments live and die.
Yet my friend remains resolute generous and venerable.
Just outside my window, ever green, ever patient, ever available!

5.1.2010

A tribute to the Neem tree outside my office window, my silent friend.