" I have suddenly turned a-grey
The dark clouds turned to silver spray
Time did not give me time to count
She gave herself unasked an account
Of change to be paid on the spot ;
No dithering, an injunction hot ;
No further appeal : you smile, I think
If I say that my passions, not a wink
Have downed, though age did steal a bit
My buoyant mirth and nimble wit ;
Time's drift we know not : a rift
Thin as a thread will turn so swift
A wider chasm to shake our dreams
A gushing stream that will not scream
No use, we have to pay, no other way
No use to whine, or weep, but to obey ;
Our debts with her should be paid off
We can't deceive, rebel or scoff ;
Whether you bite your wedding cake
Or wrap yourself in mourning make ;
The scum of youth will fly before your gaze:
To touch the dregs of precipitant age ;
We are trapped birds of time, you know
No use of flirting ; this world, a changing show.
11th September, 2016 Somaseshu Gutala