By Trijal Agarwal
Walking down a lane one December evening, I was thinking about the sorrows brazenly,
Where everyone was awaiting Christmas; I heard a cry of melancholy,
Turned around to find no one in the sight
When I heard some grieving whispers on my right,
It was a big, old tree beaten by an axe,
Laid weeping beside a Christmas tree, ornamented with a tiny shiny sax.
"Why did they chop me off?",the big, old tree cried,
"They need to expand the pathway", the Christmas tree replied.
"What was my fault- not adorning this shimmering charm?"
"You are a true tree without any harm".
"It is not fair", continued the Christmas tree,
"Ensnared is this world now- just wants dummies, I agree."
Cutting down real trees; selling the fake ones just beside,
Because on Christmas Eve, the x-mas has to preside,
We humans hew the woods; Celebrate fallacious trees on the other hand,
Re-evaluating the celebratory essence, as in front of them I stand,
Christmas is the carnival of spreading love to all,
So why not first embrace the trees and Nature that appal.
As I stepped ahead with this optimistic spell,
The big, old tree was dead- the curtain of life fell.
Inside me a sheer bereavement popped,
The x-mas too was shaken, the tiny shiny sax dropped,
The sax was the Christmassy essence and the life that was charmed,
That went away along with the big, old tree which was harmed.
By Trijal Agarwal
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