As we traverse the empty pages of life,
We see people come and go....
They leave their foot prints on the sand
Which is washed away by the unforgiving time.....
But some of their names we seldom do find
In the vestigious epitaph of buried mortality,
Under the precarious shade of the melancholic tree
Shedding its green leaves full of precious life,
Which get carried away with the passage of time....
But as we brood over the coffin of laconical happiness,
Some of these leaves fall and stick to our collar....
And with their dumb eloquence, they whisper in our ears,
"Happiness is a rarity in this doleful world,
But some people make its presence felt....
We often ignore them in search for an alchemist,
Oblivious of the treasure in our hearts that dwelt...."
5 years ago