“Tie a yellow ribbon around the old oak tree,
And write your dreams there, Jim
Work a little hard and thou shall have it”
Remembering his fathers’ words,
He rushed out to his backyard,
In the garden of eternal blooms,
Carrying a ribbon in his hand
He rushed across the lush grass
Passing by the grape vines
Ignoring the white daffodils
And refusing the faith of science
He taped an end of the yellow ribbon
On the old tree to begin the task
Then went around it numerous times
For each wish of his past.
“Become an architect”, he wrote
Or maybe eat a thousand pies
In fact on second thought, he wrote
A poet would too suffice.
Word by word and wish by wish,
He filled the yellow, with wishes
Like a bucket list made of hope
The beauty of universe’s dishes.
” I will fulfill all of them”
“Yes, dream by dream”
His innocent eyes shined silver
And, began his mediocre realm.
The daffodils have withered now
And, the vine cries for water
The grass has grown yellow
And the dreams have come to shatter
The yellow ribbon is now torn
Torn with the ruins of time
No one there to look at it now
For Jim is not alive.
It’s been more than 60 years
And nothing survived the rut
60 years gone by super fast
Like a door that was shut.
Nothing was left except the tree
Withstanding the ruins of time
Narrating the story of a boy called Jim
And of his wishes a rhyme.
And it continues to wait now
In irritable tranquility for him
For another yellow ribbon and
For another little Jim.