Hiding from my mother
In my garden,I buried thee deep inside,
After years of rains and sunlight
There thou proudly rise;
Sitting on thine branches
I ate up all thy fruits,
Sitting under thee
I had seen thine growing shoots;
Thou saved me in the rains
while I rested in thy shade,
The peace of mind, you gave me
that nobody have ever had;

Changing colour
Thy old leaves in Autumn,
Fragile feathery fall down
and touch the bottom;
Thine new born green leaves
welcometh then the spring,
And on thy branches
Birds celebrate and sing;
In my worried working days
Thou replenish me with elation,
Thou art not a tree, I say
but a growing inspiration.