Under the Barren Tree

Credit: Ratna Pochiraju

In an old tee and track that smelled of mothballsShe sat under the barren tree
When scattered thoughts refused to obeyShe sat under the barren tree
Questions bizarre flooded her mindShe sat under the barren tree
Beside the puddle, reflecting their sad lifeShe sat under the barren tree
Musing if it was the season of late rains or early autumnShe sat under the barren tree
Wondering if the old tree would live throughShe sat under the barren tree
Thinking if the shade would be missed or the fragranceShe sat under the barren tree
Pondering if the distant blur was indeed purpleShe sat under the barren tree
As the colors of Nature watched her moodShe sat under the barren tree
Her heart whispering aloud the pent up agonyShe sat under the barren tree
Was it really a curse to be barren; no one seemed to answerShe sat under the barren tree

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Note: The poem is written in Chant style, a favorite of mine. 

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