The Game of Legacy

The Game of Legacy

In my garden

There was a special tree,

 victim of struggle and trouble. 

One day I saw a huge cotton ball wedged to the tree,

As if it was trying to be free,

Next day there was another one,

Few days after I saw a little bird,

Soothing to feed its young one,

But at that time I didn’t knew!!

Facing countless flights and hell wind’s strike

It was just a solitary bird.

After some time I went near by the tree,

Between the soft roots of the young tree emerging from the branches,

I saw the bird feeding it’s young ones,

They were all grey and brown embedded in the flora crown.

I got up next day,

Came out to see the flora crown, but I saw that little bird,

Shielding the crown from the crying sky,

It was just one little bird doing all that,

Three weeks passed,,

Watching those puking young ones,

Their curls and feather grew.

Now they mewed more! Puked more!

They cried more, but it looked like they were getting bored.

Bored of being jewels of the crown.

I thought now they will flourish and nourish,

But I didn’t comprehend the supremacy of nature,

The bequest of that little bird,

Was there no more,

It left me to conjecture.

What happened to those little Jewels?

I only realized it after some time,

Those jewels were now polishers of ornaments,

Ornaments that were the legacy,

 Legacy of a mother lizard.

  This was the equilibrium of nature, the power to thrive

The bird always strived but,

The one who is feeble is for eternity, left behind!