Now!

We stand at our window and see a tree,green

We look at it with our eyes keen

It sure appears to be be a beautiful green

The leaves rustling, but the tree serene

I will stand at my window and will see a tree, yellow

I will look at it, laden with mimosas hanging low

It’ll metamorphose next spring to an alluring yellow

Fingers of wind,will play with it,like the strings of a cello

She stood at the window and saw a tree, bare and brown

Waited for it to flower, looking at it with a frown

The bareness filled her with disenchantment

The ghostly winds howl leaving her to lament

Now,Both of us look at the tree green

But now nothing to us,it means

In our heads it’s yellow or brown

Looking at it with a smile and a frown

P.S.-

Growing up me and my sister had a mimosa tree by our window,

It was there all throughout of childhood

It used to flower during springtime and was barren during fall

My memory of it is being yellow, and her’s of it being brown

But the fact is,

it’s yellow or brown in OUR HEAD

While in reality it VERY GREEN,NOW!!

(Which we very conveniently choose to overlook)

Why do we wish to dwell in a virtual place which is in our heads?

Why can’t we extend our hands and touch the green leaves,

while we can;

rather dreaming about the yellows and browns.