He was my only elder friend.
Everyday on my way to school.
I saw him and wondered.
He had the evidences of time.
A lot of knowledges and experiences.
He saw the basic instincts of us.
He, himself was a encyclopedia.
He, himself was a history of time.
But there is no sign of him.
This loss makes no sense to us.
But it clears the fact.
It discovers us, ourself.
To us no value of past.
To us history is nothing.
To us, our present is all.
But he had a lot to say us.
To say us about society, civilization.
About lifestyles, cultures.
Above all about our forefathers.
But we are out of emotions for him.
We emphasize our present than past.
And we prove our greeds.
We prove a great saying into a lie.
The old is old.
The present is gold.
Now on that way, while i walk.
I sigh and wonder.
There was an old banyan tree in here.
Good bye old friend.
kafil uddin raihan.
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-old-banyan-tree/
