We'll Meet Again

It stretches till doom, the path ahead,

Turning and twisting and ending not.

And the rovers do nothing but tread:

Man-machines our fathers begot.

 

Ups and downs and curves do,

Like five fingers on our own hand,

Fill the way through and through:

And make it not painless, but grand.

 

It’s the way of life; it’s how we live,

Our endless quest to the destination,

Pit-stopping at joys and miseries,

But life still goes on and on.

 

Was it yesterday that we met,

And yet so close? It seems not.

And now that we are friends,

Parting seems painful, a lot.

 

“Goodbye”, you say? It’s not the end.

Travellers we are- ‘tis our bane-

You and me, my friend,

Somewhere along the road, we’ll meet again…

In My Mirror...

He doesn’t look like me:

The boy that I see.

For he seems sad,

Desolate like a lonely blossom.

Eyes tearful, and sad,

Oozing with emotions,

Amazed and angry at once, as if,

At the world, the people, them all.

Bent spine, hair unkempt,

Dressed in a hurry or bothered not,

Stolid and stunned, but why?

He is not happy, for sure.

No friends? Probably,

Or something else.

Maybe he wants something.

Love, is it that I see?

Life is futile, he thinks,

As he idles around

And does nothing but think.

“Cogito Ergo Doleo”, he says.

A lonely figure he is,

And behind him, total darkness.

Never once does he smile

In true happiness, that is.

For years he has been the same,

He grew and with him, his sorrows.

Thinking and sinking into himself,

The boy I see, in my mirror…