poem"the mirror of time"

on Monday, June 13, 2005




Down the dusty lanes walked a frail stooping figure,
Memories of the past were clear; the present was a blur,
They called him bad luck Sam moved away when he came near,
He evoked no love only pity and fear,

Had to limp along on his one good leg,
Was too old, had no way out but to beg,
His eyes and ears, which had once been so keen,
Refused to work anymore, they were now too mean,

Children threw stones as he came limping by
He brushed away tears with a sad sigh,
Torn were his clothes the roof was the sky,
Wondered whether he should live or whether he should die,

Removed something from his coat and looked at it with pride,
A medal for bravery in war where so many had died,
Had saved eight of his friends from certain death,
Nobody believed him, told him to save his breath,

Sam grew old, one gloomy day he finally died,
Was buried with his precious medal by his side,
People old one another at last from him we are free
Little realizing he was a man they never could be.


Suyash said...


Sunil Kumar Chakrahari said...

I remember this one!!!...you showed it to me in our coll bus...its so very good to refresh the memories we had dude!!!