In days , which I now realise were free
but were then , as turbulent as today
I along with the old king , one summer
had planted a mango seed
in a specially ordered pot , just outside our home .
The old king , I remember would often tell
how he , when he was my age
had planted a similar (mango) seed
which now has grown into a seventy year old tree
rich with fruits , foliage and everything else .
The tree still , stands tall in our native village
but it’s father has gone home , a long time ago .
It was the same wind that spread his ashes
which now moves the leaves , one way to another .
The seed we planted here , did grow into a sapling
but the sapling now has dried away
not only the plant , but also the human sapling
whom he loved a bit too dearly .
A good soil , a little water and
a bit of sunlight might restore them both
for they have to , have to grow into a tree
full of life , rich with fruits , foliage
and everything else .
(Poem and photograph)