The March Of Time Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

The New Year dawns, hope with half wish,
The old seemingly losing dream,
And March marches, chill left behind,
In April spring springs forth full brim,
May-June sizzle in solar noon,
Mercury up like pressured steam,
And monsoon turns grey into green,
Rivers and lakes filled up to rim;
Autumn-fall then take a due turn,
Reminding of impending grim
Of chill again in endless chain;
All Nature's mortal it may seem;
Time marches on to chase its dream,
Seasons stick like a playing team.
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The lines with odd numbers run rhyme-less, while all even ones share one single rhyme throughout, and ends with a rhyming couplet— an atypical sonnet.
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Sonnets | 05.08.11 |