A dry leaf rustles
as a youthful gust of breeze hustles,
Says the leaf
full of wisdom untainted with grief:
as a youthful gust of breeze hustles,
Says the leaf
full of wisdom untainted with grief:
"Dear don't feel proud
of this young, stormy shroud,
You feel that you move the world,
Thy stormy vanity funnily curled,
Drunk with age and passion whirled,
Jesting with someone like me
blown away and crumpled.
I too was once luscious green,
An exuberant teen
with new-age glean,
A prince lost in his sheen,
Realities buried under the screen,
and pride prancing with haughty preen,--
Someone like me
nowhere to be seen.
Thought I was the entire forest
and me the dearest.
Meanwhile, chuckled time
at my childish chime,
Blew it away the flowery spring ray,
And here I lay,
having spent--or wasted?--my day,
The pride and boast tossed away,
All dusted, crumbling on the way,
With whom you now play,
But listen mate,
Everyone has a date
with the inevitable fate,
So as you celebrate
with youthful gusto great,
Walk chest out, spine straight,
Look at me crumpled
and trampled,
Remember you should always
as you sashay through the maze
that a mighty storm you are not
which will burn forever hot,
You too will trip
and slip,
And helplessly lie
to die,
And look at the sky
with a remorseful sigh
for having run
with fruitless fun,
Too vain and lost
without looking at the host,--
The ever-welcoming 'Now'
always fruitlessly waiting with a kind bow.
