That nice elderly year
Lying on his death bed,
A fellow of our previous path
A willing caller to everyone’ longing;
His days were once lustrous
Evening, a rosy blonde,
When his hope was high
He weaved fanciful visual nights;
How he lavished his liberal hand
All the treasures in his possess?
I find his tiny traces in Apollo
Or vanishing lunar light,
As I have all praise, less to blame;
I thank God for past every moment
Love you for thy timely prick,
It’s all my choice
If I were a failure;
Now I can shun my greed and strife
As thou taught me a restful sleep,
To wake up for New Year morn
Sound in judgments,
Devoid of wasteful desire
Sandeep Kumar Mishra