All through childhood
We were in a playing mood
In the youth
Full of Spirits
But as Youth was gone
There was a lot to be done
And as old age came
To take its place
There was no more grace
The sins and untruths of Life
Played before the weary eyes
And suddenly, we were as poor as church mice
At the end of the Yellowing meadows
Nobody was there except for one’s shadow
The painful countdown
Came to an end by Sundown
Death came at last And they called me Late
I can't believe that you were such a thoughtful child!! Too serious a poem for a...teenager, shall i say?
ReplyDeleteWow!! I did not know that you were into poetry! Good work!
ReplyDeleteDestinys child
ReplyDeleteHmmm I am thoughtful even now
Novice writer
Meet the poet.:)