Wednesday, 26 June 2019

Tomorrow will be late

The world around, thick and dense
With grasses and shrubs, like the prairies.
Fodder to live for some
For others, a refuge to hide.

Some grass not tall enough
To hide from falling a prey;
The strong with all their might, escaped.
The hapless was pounced upon, strangled and devoured.

A tree stood like a caring mother
Tall amidst the grassland
With branches spread,
Ready to shelter the weak and gullible;

Like a mother, caring and tending
Her child from birth to adulthood;
Cuddled between branches,
The child in arms safe and sound.

Years passed, the tree now old;
Child, now a grownup, but still,
Held on to the creaking branches
To take all he can, even as his mother bled.

The branches drooping, no strength to hold,
Wilting and shorn off all leaves;
One heard the tree plead
Come closer, for tomorrow will be late.

My branches weak
My trunk frail, my fall imminent
Be there, help me descend
Gently like an autumn leaf.

To tear apart pages

From life, a book,

That took years to write.

Wrapped in leather and gold

Well bound, sheen intact,

Tucked within the glossy cover

Missing pages well hidden.

A lump in the throat

Melts away decades of life

Heavy heart pulls one down

Till feet find place on earth.

The sadness pierces one's heart,

Till time mends, all wounds.

The scars remain, dormant like a volcano

Threatening to erupt and destroy happiness.

A few moments of darkness

Makes one feel blind;

But one minute of sadness,

Make happiness an illusion.

Preserve happiness, let it last.

Tomorrow it will take a break.

Never to return to the world of bliss

Life well lived now lay shattered.