It offered silken webs of passionate wind,
blessed countless people with tarpaulin covers of cool shade,
stood like a formidable fortress against acrimonious rays of summer heat,
shielded the animate from torrential showers of rain,
served as a greenhouse for passengers dreary from incessant travel,
glistened majestically with sparkling droplets of dew at the onset of dawn,
trembled like a maniac in tumultuous outbursts of breeze,
sobbed with inert emotions when struck by live currents of electricity,
blossomed like a fairy god mother in the mystical ambience of spring,
resembled a ghost; stripped of cloth in the incongruous environs of autumn,
catering to a plethora of wild insect,
with an army of smoke Grey squirrel slithering down all day,
migratory birds nestling in harmony with its hollow belly,
venomous snakes curled tightly in dense regions of its wild armory,
unrelenting hurricanes prompting it to crouch and stoop,
it bore bountiful fruit of olive green plum,
bathed few months in a calendar year with natural water from the sky,
giving regular births to parrot green buds of striped leaf,
inhabiting virtually all corners of the globe sprawled with fertile soil,
spreading its roots deep within unexplored regions of the ground,
with white milk oozing out when sliced with dexterous strokes of jackknife,
I simply had loads of reverence for the chocolate brown plum tree,
saluted its persona with flowing tributes and heaps of adulation.
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