Thursday, 9 February 2012

The day I was born

Long nights and days sped by
To yearn and earn and count and die,
In loving spree and dreams and cry,
In heaps of petals fallen and dry.

Swirling serpents—smoky dread
Invading sky to paint and spread,
Erasing signs of innocent myths—

Cradled so long in cerebral piths.

Promises faded, one by one,
Nothing was lost and none has won;
Reaped not harvest, seeds not sown,
The last wish awaits the last ribbon.

Moments flee, pages burn,
And ashes fill the memories’ urn;
Yet the sojourn shines in glee
When life recounts its first turn.


  1. really good Saibal .... shouldn't it be 'its' in the very last line..

  2. Yes, Sidharth....Thanks for your appreciation



For years they have been there--stoically oblivious To the world slipping out of time--caged in the dungeon of Down-shelves in my library...