Songs Of The Late Season Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

Ominous time when plunders has no peer,
It steals when scores of years from any age—
Sprightly younger years driven in high gear,
Along with old no less ready to rage,
Wanting to reach spring in its red blossom,
Returning to muse and pen down a page.
Perchance in life things at an apt time come,
Man can't, and still tries to cross fate's fine edge.
And songs of life take silent time to season,
Be they on time or late, too soon or slow,
To sit in judgment is the job of heaven,
In resigned grace let me not wish to know.
A peacock dances not just rains to bring,
Nor yet a bud blossoms to beckon spring.
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Sonnets | 01.10.10 |