Literary Yard

Search for meaning

Poetry

By: Akash Rumade

winter

Twas winter of 89,
You were just a kid aged ten.
Nothing to lose or to win,
You enjoyed breaking window panes.
Then one night, twas shiny dark,
You were lost searching your almighty’s mark.
Maybe he cast on you a hex,
And you forgot your heart’s a Rex.
You sat on the hilltop,
Gazing out at the moon,
Their aren’t a tear-drop,
On missing your favorite cartoon.
You began to walk,
As cold winds start to blow,
And you wished God for a snow,
Maybe kid you shall really grow.
Someday, you’ll know,
What’s life mix with risk!
Maybe it will pass you in a brisk,
But still there will be “Happy Hours”, you know.
It’s been few years since then,
And you haven’t had your Mercy-Benz,
Hush little Kid, it’s alright,
For tomorrow’s sun will always shine bright.

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