Climbing trees is an art—
squirrels and leopards are masters of it.
When we were young, we climbed trees often;
my brother and I were good at it.
We spent more time in the branches
than on the ground, for they offered a better view.
We played, laughed, and shook the limbs
until leaves fell like rain.
Our father scolded us, reminding
that leaves made the food for the plant.
He said, “Climb the trees, but leave the leaves alone.”
We never disturbed them again.
The trees gave us fruits we loved—
raw mango slices dipped in chili and salt.
We ate so much that when our mother called us
for lunch, we were already full,
yet we still ate to please her.
Our best conversations bloomed in the branches,
legs swinging freely side by side.
The bond we formed remains even now—
my brother is my best friend and confidant.
Find your tree, climb, and sit with a friend.
Talk about everything beneath its shade.
The tree will give shelter from the sun,
fruits to savor, and a friendship for a lifetime.
