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The Guava Tree 

Michelle Chmara

With careful steps, I find my place,

beneath green arms and dappled grace.

Under the guava tree, I watch and wait,

for a guest at nature's gate.

She knows me—this old Guava tree,

she leans her branches just for me.

The wind hums low, the leaves reply,

a secret whispered from the sky.

Guavas fall like gifts, warm and sweet –

there, they fall at my feet.