THE ONE DREAM OF POETRY

The Scrub
Wanted most of all to be a poet
Squeezed self to school
Under the tree
All the words there were
He learnt
Finding all the meaning
There was to be a tree

And the Tree so high grown
Became the most wanted of all
The poet
Could play its leaves to lyrics
The face of the sun
In turn the light of smile.
The tree had them all for friends

The wind came heavy, hailing
Sands and stones and went by
And the Scrub and all under cover
Were unblown away
The rain came in elephants
And lions falling
And the Tree soaked them all
Issuing drop of waters enough
For the Scrub to keep alive

So sudden the Scrub spoke
Want out and went out
On the one dream of poetry
To be for all
But the Scrub every poem
We all spot were words
Already hemmed out
By the Tree

And the Scrub
Having faced too heavy sun
Got burnt
“Unfairly” accused
And lost all patience with poetry
But the lost of the poetry of the Scrub
To be a scrub was greater on us all

And so the Scrub
Who want out went out
And died the one dream of poetry
To be of all and for all

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