On top of the hill,

The tree still stands

From where we'd count mills,

And hold our hands.

It has seen our love,

And tough times of course.

But now it still stands there,

Uphill and bored.

It waits for our return,

Or someone else atleast.

Cause it would love to see love,

Once again and get pleased.

But now it still stands there,

Waiting for young or old.

Regardless of age or caste and more.

He'd like to see love just once not more.

And then one day, comes a lover.

Well dressed and groomed,

In his hand a beautiful flower.

He was standing there, with hope and love.

Standing near the tree,

On the hill above.

But there was no one who came 

                 for the flower.

There the lover still stood as the sun

                   went lower.

There the tree stood, watching the young lover.

As he cried and mourned and tore the fluorescent flower.

And then the tree understood what love was, oh boy!

Not every time does it give you joy.

There it still stands,

On the hill above.

Hoping to see love,

Like this no more. 

                                             - Mujtaba Ahmed

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