On a wonderful, gorgeous day,
Under a graceful old tree I lay.
The sun burned on its mosaic crown
Hued green and gold and brown.

Chameleon clouds – fluffy, lacy drapes
Tattooed the sky with their enchanting shapes.
In a muddy pond, cattle and men together bonded,
With genuine affection each to the other responded.

A soft wind wafted in from the west,
Leaves rustled which till now were at rest.
The aging brown ones drifted slowly down
Like blemished jewels ripped off the crown.

New young leaves sniggered in vernal greenery,
With disdain they scoffed the “oldies” in the tree.
“Oh! Our style they cramp and our beauty they mar!
Merciful wind, blow these ancients away and afar.”

A mellow gold leaf heard their snorts and laments,
Knowingly she smiled at their hurtful comments.
“Don’t revel in evanescent youth, listen to our story,
We also were once the tree’s crowning glory.”

Time does not spare, nor age ever forgive!
The freshness of spring will fade while you live.
Autumn will enfold you in her wilting embrace,
None, oh none, can escape her withering grace.

“So be tolerant of us drooping old dears,
Give us our due in our dying years.
The compassion you show to others today
Will flow back to comfort you another day.”