I fondly carry my childhood remembrances of the old Mango tree at the center of our courtyard, of the times when the Cuckoo sang and we gathered around the tree and looked up through the ripe yellow nectar to spot the songbird, with bated breath we stood as we soaked in the melody and prayed for it to continue.
Just then a sprightly kid scared it away and we bid farewell to our fellow dweller as it flew past, hoping for it to return with yet another pleasing strain. ~
As the clock ticked, we gathered pace and lost our childhood to the wise ways and worldly affairs. Corrupted, we lost touch with the old mango tree and shunned the songbird to oblivion. True friend that she was, the Cuckoo did come looking for us, to sing for us to mesmerize us with her gift yet again. Blind sighted, we never took note, eschewed her playful calls and lost it forever. Or did we…?
She was there by my window! My old friend, waiting all these years to sing to me…She was always there, I just had to slow down and look out!