The Gulmohar tree

The Gulmohar tree swirling and dancing
to the rhythmic winds, appeared to be singing,
and the leaves twirled, its flowers budding.
The mellow touch, from the winds above
filling their hearts with some unknown love,
a sight to watch from my open balcony
as I sit, relishing my
spoonful of organic honey.

It's woody branches, almost reaching the skies,
as within their homes my neighbor fried
some delectable sweets and savouries,
served with English tea, rich in flavory.
Like a canopy, sheltering small plants and bushes
when in such heat the gardener rushes
watering the tree and plants,
while aunt Ira loudly prays and chants.

The whispers of time, gathering no dust
as in the gardener, the tree fully trusts.
It's bright orange hue
under drops of fresh morning dew,
and when it rains, the petals glisten
almost asking us to stop and listen
to stories, tales of lovers perhaps,
resting under its shade is a burly, old chap.

It appears to be beaming and rejoicing,
almost as though it's love is approaching,
those orange turning a passionate red,
casting below a romantic, cosy bed.
Done to ashes are old, rustic leaves,
to those wooden branches, new petals cleave.

Bringing joys to my heart
regularly almost, as the day starts.
Cars passing by, some children running
to catch their school bus, every early morning.
Separating us, a distance of about
twenty feet,
The day begins and my neighbors and I cheerfully meet.

The Suns rays harmonizing, bringing it light
as night falls, it rests, sleeping with great delight.
In peak summers, it’s time to blossom
and as they bloom, life feels so awesome.
No deceit and no foul play
unfolding love, every night and day.