BY SMRUTI SIKHA SAHOO
We think we have time,
And the mistake there begins;
The happy moments we share,
Soon become good memories;
The irreplaceable loss occur so fast,
And the realization so slow,
And the repentance so hard;
Yet of no use
The physical warmth ends there,
Those remarkable spells never return,
Insignificant someday now rings everywhere;
The hope of getting things back in order shatters
Still we don't care.
The clock hand stops where it began,
Today starts where yesterday left;
Ignorant that life is linear,
The end is the end, not a new beginning.