The Pine Tree

A ballad by Achint Marwa.


The Pine Tree

Once upon a time a story was told,
Of how to make diamonds out of hard black coal.
It was a story loved by all;
Felt by some;
But neglected by none.
It was more than just wine in a glass,
It was perfect at every glance.

Fell in love the couple,
God knows how;
With time it showed that they were perfect in all, 
Thinking out of the romantic novel,
They were so real, so beautiful, so true together.
Along with love, they had trust;
Along with love, they had respect.

Minds thought alike,
Lips spoke alike,
Interests varied,
But the passion was alike,
The processing differed,
But the conclusion was alike.
For this was their style.

Once for a date the couple went,
A walk at dawn,
Giggling and laughing.
Finally the stopped and took a little break,
Through the pine leaves sunrays beamed,
For now this was their tree;
Their thing.

Yet again the couple was under the pine tree,
Talking about honesty,
Interrupting her said he,
“I have a confession to make…”
She smiled and looked him in the eye
While he pulled out a ring with a diamond on top,
“In truth, I love more than we thought…”

There was no need to say a word,
She put her hand in his,
He slipped the ring on her finger,
Then their big day came,
For them, the neighbors were happy,
For such a real love story,
Never had they seen.

The lady was mature with a streak of craziness,
For he was quite the same,
All the others married for the sake of it,
But they were together only for the love they had.
They were then pronounced ‘husband and wife’.
Then said the two together;
“The youth won’t die”.

And now sat the couple,
Under the same pine tree;
With lose skin and wrinkles.
Their youthful days were over,
Or so they thought;
“But the youth won’t die”,
Said the two together.

Then it so happened,
That the husband died,
More than sad she was happy
As he was free of the worldly sufferings now,
With him died another person,
But nobody could see.

Although she was dead from within
She put on a smile,
For her he was still there
Alive, and next to her
How could she cry,
When he was still with her,
Smiling at her, and making her feel like a queen.

Then one day she died as well,
Only to reunite with him.
In her notebook her children found a line;
“The leaves of our pine tree turned yellow after Adam died,
The question is, will the tree die when I die as well?”
Rest of the pages where blank,
But in the notebook they found old movie tickets, photos, and some letters.

Slowly people came to know,
That love is trusting your partner.
Love is respecting each other’s privacy.
Love is honesty.
This was a true fairytale,
Different from the one in books and movies.

The Pine Tree.