Gift of a friend

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Once upon a time, there was a tree. He was a loner.

But he was my friend.

That tree never talked to anyone.
But I always said “hi” to him, he never replied.

But he was my friend.

That tree always reminded me of the term “Solitary Confinement”. People made several stories of him not having any leaves or anything throughout the year.

But he was my friend.

That tree never had any leaves let alone flowers. So people decided to cut him and grow something else. I didn’t know about this.

But he was my friend.

Like any other day, I went to his place to say my “hi” to him. But he was long gone. I was too late.

But he didn’t forget to give me his love. Hence, he left me these.

These flowers. His tears. His love. My gift.

I collected his tears and hid them somewhere far over the hills, away from this cruel reality.

But he was my friend.

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