Draft in the author’s style. This poem was written for Poet of Blossom to sit beside the author’s own readings, and is waiting for the author’s review. The commentary is a working draft too.
Beneath the mango tree at the edge of our old street,
We swore our vows in the shade where the two of us would meet.
The branches bent with sweetness and the leaves were whispering low,
As if the ancient tree approved of what it came to know.
We had no golden altar and no organ's swelling sound,
Just the hum of bees and a gentle wind that circled all around.
You promised me your patience, I promised you my song,
And we promised that together we would right whatever's wrong.
The fruit fell down like blessings, ripe and heavy in the grass,
And we laughed and shared the sweetness as the golden hours pass.
Now the tree has grown so tall that its shadow shelters more,
Our children play beneath it, on the same old dusty floor.
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Commentary
Instead of a church, these lovers married under a tree on their own street. The poem shows how a simple place can become sacred when promises are made there and kept.
“Beneath the mango tree at the edge of our old street,” the couple swears vows “in the shade.” The leaves are “whispering low,” as if the tree approves. There is “no golden altar and no organ’s swelling sound,” only “the hum of bees” and a gentle wind.
One promises “patience,” the other “my song,” and both promise to “right whatever’s wrong.” “The fruit fell down like blessings,” and they share the sweetness. Years later, the tree’s “shadow shelters more,” and “our children play beneath it,” so the vow has grown into a family.