An Ode To My Best Friend Poem by Amar Agarwala

I often chat with the Walnut tree
It's my closest friend you see,
It has stood by me for years to come
With the warmest empathy.

Its leaves shade me from the sun and rain
Then regales a tale or two,
At times we engage in hide and seek
Like children play in the zoo.

I know the birds that have build their nest
Where its fine branches are bent,
They have been ordered to sing for me
It's in lieu of unpaid rent.

It is friends with daisies and the rose
And with soft and tender grass,
It entreats them with a fervent plea
That they spread on me en mass.

Sprightly squirrels and gay butterflies
And rabbits that it has trained,
It orders them - be it rain or hail
That I must be entertained.

Come autumn and I can see its leaves
Turning to a beaten gold,
It showers me with their treasures rare
Which I leisurely behold.

Come long winters and it canopies
The snowflakes that fall on me,
Though it knows well that I am rugged too
But it treats me tenderly.

There are times I feel its probing roots
Which lovingly hold my hands,
Thus reaching out to my loneliness
For my pains it understands.

What can I say of the Walnut Tree
A soul-mate that I have found,
It stands vigil near my gravestone grey
While I stay below its mound.

I've known many from my mortal days
But none like this friend of mine,
It took me more than a lifetime to
Find such company divine.
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