This has been on been on my orkut about me for sometime now. I’m posting it here for the lack of any other content 😦
Come the lashing of rains,
Or the beatings of storms,
There stands a tree,
A lonely tree,
Enduring it,
As it has ever been.
Perched on it is a song bird,
A lovely one for that,
Making tree its abode,
Helping the tree through times,
Tougher ones and happier ones,
But never parting from it.
Am I the tree?
Taking happiness
and sadness as equals,
Being the same wood always
or am I the song bird
living for a friend
who I respect beyond measures
yearning to be the truest friend.
Matters not what I am,
save how I am,
times the tree,
times the bird
but not losing myself.