This is not me. Back then, I had a huge family of people with me in this village.
All was green when all was really Green. Yes.
But at that time, I was young and full of branches, green leaves, and fruits. People found me useful, to get the shadow, eat the fruits. Kids loved to play in swing & sleep on my branches. Those were the golden periods whose memories helps me to stay alive now.
Years passed, I grew old.
Rain stopped its regular visits and made me dry. My friends could not stand it for long and gone. I have withstood this famine. But now I wonder why I did. Had I died with my families, I would not have lived to see my own people leave and abandoning me.
I cry, not because I can no longer provide shades or shelter or fruits.
But for a good reason. For, the tears from me is what still keeping my friendly ants alive and with me. I am worried not for me, but for my friends.
Who will take care of them, once I ran out of tears?
So, oh my tears please don’t stop.
This article was written as part of Sunday Photo Fiction based on the photo prompt by Joy Pixley. The Sunday Photo Fiction is hosted by Susan Spaulding. Please visit here to know more about this campaign. Thank you for reading and providing your feedback on this!
You can find my other articles for Sunday Photo Fiction here.