’Twas late at night on a lonely path
Water spears lashed as monsoon sang
An unfortunate traveller, alone, weary
Looked for shelter and spied it standing tall
Rain washed out his granny’s words, so,
Unsuspecting, he fell asleep under it
The next morning, he woke up and saw
himself sitting on the ground, while he sat
Perched like a monkey on the branches above
His body grinned at him, said Thanks
You can have my place and walked away,
leaving him, a ghost in a banyan tree
Note: There’s a superstition in India that if you sleep under a banyan tree at night, ghosts will come and carry you away or latch onto you and haunt you.
This was a response to Shirley Jimenez’s evocative poetry prompt. Sorry Shirley, I just couldn’t stick to one line this time :-) Thank you for the inspiration.