Poems by
Shubha Garimella

My Gulmohar Tree

a poem by Shubha Garimella

Through the half open window, I watch silently,
As those coarse hands
Tear the tender leaves and scarlet flowers
Tear down its limbs one by one, so relentlessly,
Of my beautiful Gulmohar tree.

I recall my childish games played so wildly
In its stout branches
Gathering buds and flowers that fell at my feet
When the wind chanced to blow strongly,
Through my beautiful gulmohar tree.

They say the population is growing,
People need more space,
More houses, more roads to be laid
Nobody really cares, nobody’s listening,
To the cries of my gulmohar tree

I don’t rush out and stand up for my tree,
I don’t stop this rampage,
I let this madness destroy my friend,
I am one of them, don’t you see?
I need more space
My gulmohar tree’s now just history.