Beneath the gulmohar tree,
In flamboyant love,
A tale of our desires,
Coloring each other,
A bright vermillion,
Under his crimson spread
Shaded in blissful haven.
Reaching for his branches,
Under a bright shower of scarlet petals,
Of hearts and heat, of love and life,
Blooms of a scorching Indian summer.
In flames, his vibrant burning crown,
His canopy, flaunting festive tangerine blossoms,
Crinkled teasing petals,
Of quaint innocence in white,
Splashed with feisty passion's red,
Celebrating and anticipating,
In celebration of us, our love,
As his branches reach high for dark promising clouds.
Serenading with the music of the monsoons,
Moist leaves of the gulmohar glisten,
With wind and water, in gentle rhythm
Raindrops nestle for a moment
Before sliding, slipping,
On damp, satiated earth.
Strewn bright with scattered orange petals,
Of the gulmohar,
Drenched and soaked like us.