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VITHURA. V. ASOK.(Thankyou2019 | Certificate of Participation )

……………… 1……………………

The last shrilling twilight of the December,

Bid farewell to me, my cheeks rosy or pale ?

No hoary frost to reflect my burning pangs,

To muse human glory to the highest, my flute broken.

……………… 2 ……………….

All buds not bloomed, but some often down,

The time plays the fiddle not to my tunes,

Yet some silver rays, always ahead for one and all,

To polish our begging bowls at all cross-roads.

………………. 3 ………………

The sweet symphony of the January mornings,

The swindling symmetry of the February noons,

The scorching mirage sirens in March evenings,

The April with all its cruelties, often cruelly cruel.

……………. …. 4……………………

The dismayed May with disgruntled discords,

And the jumping jumbles of a jubilant June,

The augustus crown of the August in austerity,

The sweet septets of September, but septic to me.

…………… 5………….

The obscene October and namby-pamby November alike,

The Spring often peeps beyond the boroughs,

But it’s sweet nectar only to the haves in plenty,

The have-nots always beyond the marginalised hells.

………… …… 6……………

Eloping years, dying months and the fading seasons,

Of same colours and of same odours, leaving no odds.

Empty stomachs digest neither December nor January,

But only salivating penury. Life but “a hide and seek game “.

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