A Friendly Conversation II

Tree:

Hello,  Madam bird with bright future ,

You bring such a joy, a painless torcher. 

Why do you sing near one like me—

An unlucky , lonely, silent tree?

Bird:

Oh Mr. Tree so tall, so kind, so still,

Your calmness makes my heart refill.

You never rush, you never shout,

You help the heavy worries out.

Tree:

But I have known the ache of years,

My roots are soaked in silent tears.

I once reached out with hope and flame,

But every dream just died the same.

The storms of fate have stripped my leaves away,

And all who came… they didn’t stay.

I stood through fire, frost, and rain—

Yet nothing bloomed, just more of pain.

Now songs feel far, and joy feels dim—

What use is life when branches thin?

Bird:

But still you listen with your heart,

So calm, so gentle from the start.

You never judge how one may seem,

Or shatter someone's quiet dream.

Tree:

Most walk on by, they do not see,

The quiet  unblessed soul inside of me.

They wear their masks, they never stay—

But you have come and lit every day.

Bird:

Most people wear a made-up face,

But you create a softer place.

A space where I can just be real,

And speak the things I truly feel.

Tree:

Dear madam bird, your words are kind,

They stir what's buried deep inside.

But I am tired, I’ve tried, I’ve failed—

Each branch once brave is now impaled.

You have your sky, your wings, your spring—

While I remain… a lifeless thing.

Bird:

But standing still with pain and grace

Takes more than flying place to place.

You hold the sky, you shade the land,

You give, though few might understand.

You’re rare, so full of silent grace,

A soul that time cannot replace.

Tree:

You think me rare, you call me true?

Yet all I am is scar and blue.

You shine, you sing, you make hearts rise—

I’ve only watched the fading skies.

Bird:

Oh no, dear tree, it's clear to see:

You hold the world with quiet dignity.

You never judge by look or name,

You love us gently, all the same.

Tree:

Perhaps we’re both a little rare—

Mad, crazy, stupid we are.

Though I have lost what once was mine,

You gift me light through song and time. 

Thank you crazy little bird

When walking alone  through the woods in Cornwall in a early morning 

சிகரன் 

21.07.25