By Dr. Pooja S.
The sky is cloudless,
Not at all windless.
Hiring an adamant yacht,
Age drifts on a silver cot.
Not a mere drift,
But a flee, so swift,
With honkings as shrill,
As the squeak of a rat uphill.
Their wrinkles and brittle nails,
Pricking me with frequent ails,
From weekends to alternate days,
Hair dying has attained pace.
The intricacies of adulthood,
Frightening me with spreaded hood,
Immersed in life and its race,
I do not see my untimely greys!
Beautiful ✨
smooths rhymes🫶 and the ways in which a person is affected by the passing of time. beautiful!