MURDERED

MURDERED

My old friend, my Babool tree,

Thrice as old as my father,

Who stood tall like an omniscient decree,

Lived twice as many springs as my grandfather,

My grandfather watered Him,

Then for decades watered my dad,

And for years I looked after him,

With all the cares I had,

One day we left him alone,

When all the clouds were grey,

When I returned, He was gone,

Aah! He was murdered that day,

Into thousand morsels of wood,

He was torn asunder in a blow,

Who, for a long century, gallantly stood,

Is just scattered over my stretched shadow,

Millions rested in his shade,

But today He sleeps over mine,

Murdered by an evil blade,

During the rain and sunshine,