It has all got lost long time ago,
Tale of Kings and Queens, of mermaid and prince,
Does not catch our dream anymore;
Time is over for fun and frolic, for rest and be slightly lethargic.
Our schedules are tight to keep up the new age shine,
We are conferring at lunch over an antique bottle of wine.
We are moving swiftly here and there,
Tearing grass blades in numerous layers;
Disturbing the soil in a ruthless way,
Altering the green into hazy dirty grey.
Under such an awful state, when we find a bard
Who tries to spot dew drops,
Tries to collect the torn petals strewn on the way;
Then we burst into laughter;
They are the poet of olden time,
They write on setting sun; on fallen leaves
On flowing river and on drizzling rain,
On gentle breeze and on unknown pain.
We tell whatever comes in our mind,
Whatever suits our mood and time……..
We do not mind whether it creates any rhythm or rhyme
We have no time to pass in free and fall in reverie.
No time to fall in love with one or any in our prime,
Our life is weighted, our feelings are trimmed,
Our dreams are pasted in the desk top screen….
Our days are full of incidents with instant start and sudden end.
We sit at the end on the rock with no fear;
Holding a pack of salted chips and ice-cold bear.
Slowly our eyes go to a closer
Leaving a slit at the tired corner;
Nobody will call anymore; nobody will wake us up,
Nobody will know our pain; nobody will see the face which has gone fairly pale.
Will you write on us, will you join a line of life encircling the mount of Venus?
Will you Sir; put a word of hope amid hoard of despair?
Will you throw some light my dear poet?
Will you put a tissue on our sweat?