Hurry, hurry, I have to catch the bus,
Today, I am not going to drown the glass,
All I need is to sit on the lush grass,
The feeling of leaning on its barks,
It feels like leaning on the shoulder of a loved one,
I like calling it Allan,
The leaves on it look like a turban,
In my compound it looks like a tubman,
Rising high above all the other trees,
The consant swarming, its also a home for bees,
The source of my evening glee,
It welcomes me by shedding a courtesy leaf on me,
as i sit in its shade,
its sooths the cuts of life's blade,
do people realize why trees were made,
the only sincere source of life escapades,
and this one right here above me,
a darling tree that injects me with peace,
Oh how I love this tree.
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