Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Little by little

The shaddows that reflect an evening life
Are other than when youth was at its height -
Stood high the Sun or bade farewell.
For then the untried back was firm and strong
And used sky's orb to cast its outline proud,
Whereas a weakened posture tells a tale,
When thrown upon the ground by ruthless ray
Which, without malice, shows a sorry shape.

This is the certain lot of all to tell,
Though narratives will differ one by one -
So life devotes itself to what it can
And leaves its passage hence to certain fate.

1 comment:

WEREDA said...

What a touching yet sad reflection upon ones life