New attempt.....

Here's the next attempt before u.... This poem has a short history... I wrote this when i lost a very good friend of mine.... I'd rather say, she lost me. We've been the best friends at school and very close. we had astonishing similarities in life too. My value to friendship is much above the value i give to many important things in this world. Friends have always been a source of support and strength for me. This was one such friend of mine who was very close to my heart... I believed that i did mean so to her. But, I was mistaken. Never after she left the school has she contacted me... Never messaged or mailed me. She's physically not that far, but mentally she's gone away from me. This poem was born when i first realized that she has changed!!! But I'm happy; for every experience in life gives something new to you.... Just like how darkness teaches you the importance of light :-)


Listen to me oh god!
I lay here beneath the earth
Soiled, dark, ugly and dirty
Toiling all day and night
To keep this plant upright.
I fetch its food and all its needs,
But it not knows that I am here.
It cares me least and ignores me,
Though i love it so dear.
I spread my hands deep this earth
So that my plant grows high and strong.
I wish that one day it sees me down
And says 'I'm all yours'.
But the plant it smiles at all its fruits
And flowers that it does bear,
Not knowing that my tedious work
Has fetched them all for her.
They bloom every morning bright,
And shine throughout the day,
And the dusk sees it dry
Withered and dead by the night.
The plant feels sad, for a moment indeed,
And it sheds its tears down me.
For the next day she sees them fresh again
New flowers and fruits and bowers around
And forgets me again.
Oh God! I live here and look upto her
And work for her all life,
I love her too dear indeed
But make her love me too.
I'm deep here, invisible,
Yet happy with all my toil
For she lives happy above
Because I'm here for her.

- Charu Hariharan

I haven't lent a title to this poem yet... Any suggestions, most welcome - whether about the title or about the poem...