baggout Blogging Contest

Thursday, February 7, 2008


It’s true we do not have any time for the old
‘Cause we treat them only as a stepping stone.
Arms that cradle become withered with time and
We shrug them off as our burden of bones.

But I paused and looked at the Mirror-
Who am I ? The flower or the seed ;
We stop and sweat and wait for our child
To come of age; with love and delight.-
We let go our train but is it in vain?
Day and night we toil for them
To blossom and prosper-
But in the end, do we want to be thrown in the drain
That holds our parents and their folks too;
The mirror screamed ‘now it is time for YOU
To fall in the ravine that you dug for your old’

It is only you who can rewrite the story
And see a happy new one getting unfold
For you and you, who love your roots
Shall get the fruit of an evergreen tree.
You’ll see rainbows with heavenly hues
Embracing your sky, driving away the blues.

So look at your eyes and say I will not wither
Nor shall I let my roots to rot and die,
The river flows forever and ever;
You take the waves to a new high .

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