Late October singing

There's a magic door in our backyard
That conduits  between my adulthood  
And carefree teenage.
Where I press my ear and hear
The after -exam Late October singing,
Of them who are not believed to sing.
Where the willow oak whistles
And the mango tree murmurs
Gilded noon stories into  the ears of tamarind
The pomegranate  rustles,
The red ixora plays the harmony
And the white ixora joins in for the melody;
The marigold provide the rhythm ,
The rain lilies the timbre.
The roses sigh haughtily
Not trying to join anybody.
The nightqueen chuckles,
The bauhinia  giggles,
The primrose yodel
And the cacti grumbles about
Not being called in to the group.
The sunflower whispers secrets
To the sunlight,
The love letter given to the moonlight
By the chrysanthemums rustles like soft silk:
The banyan play ring-a ring-a -roses
With the light reflected from
The ripples of the pond.

And I hear them...
Drifting back into my teenage....
The blood clotting upon my wounds....
The pain ceasing...
My frozen benumbed fingers
Waking back to the call of life!!

The custard apples play the crescendo
The guava the decrescendo
And there goes the calling bell
And my mother returns
And the selah!