I like this tree

The noon scatters light

to the roof of my room 

painted in a creamy white 

casting a rainbow of possibilities

I sit by the window

look outside, at the fresh green mangoes

March is ending, soon to be April

and they wait like me to change

become everything they have hoped

since we saw each other first

They have looked at me too

all these days, the tree for longer has

It has seen me weep, fight, fright

and then has seen me too

smiling into the warm evening light

We have come to know each other

for neither misses a chance to stare

at each other, at least once a day.

I see the raw mangoes are hope it

maybe that is how he communicates

come May, the mangoes will be yellow

most will for sure, and I will not pick

i will watch them, watch the birds perch

as they eat the mangoes and sing

much like my heart, like the tree's too

bearing hope to feed a hungry life

i have complained too much then

i see it clearly now and how

i will bloom for i am another branch

growing in this beautiful tree of life

Notes:

This poem was written as someone looking out her window and watching the mango tree. While that is a literal scene, it also is a metaphor for a lot of things.

The mangoes are a metaphor of new hopes and dreams, the birds all the people who come to the tree who is also the friend of the lady looking out of the window. The tree is metaphorically me, and the lady is my best friend. 

This is a very weird example of how my perspective of another person's perspective of another is written.