I love it whenever your leaves sway in the wind, leaving in its wake a swoosh and rustling of leaves. It is the sound that I often hear then and there again whenever I’d sit by the bench tables right outside that lecture theatre, just along that long walkway. It is the sound that I hear whenever I’d walk down the road should I not be listening to music; the sound that I hear should I close my eyes in the night by the balcony, listening.
I love it whenever you would wave back and forth to me as I look out the bus window. It reminds me of the way that I often say hello to people – with a wave. I mean, most people don’t wave when saying hellos anymore, I don’t know why, but you still do. I thank you for that.
Humanity owes you an enormous debt for all that you have done for us. You provide us with the oxygen we need to survive, provide us with the fuel we need to start fires. You provid us with shade in the noonday sun, and fruits for our hungry stomachs. We owe you a great deal, more than we might ever know.
I know many people who would say the same thing too; our late founding father, Lee Kuan Yew, for one , would have probably thank you too. He is the reason why I see you all along the roads and in the parks we still keep. He saw the value in which you brought to our lives: Greenness, organicness and a whole lot of oxygen; in an attempt to filter out as much harmful pollutants out from the air of our cars. I thank you for keeping the air clean for me to breathe.
Till the next time I write to you, keep waving and rustling.
Not much of a botanist, but still a tree lover, Ka Wai