Immortality Poem by K.S.Subramanian Subramanian

Winter’s slow footfall echoes in my ears;
Years roll as spring of hope is still green.
Blue sky is suffused with burst of showers
Every passing day a glimmer of sheen;
Seasons a witness to the changing scene
as tree makes way to the musty concrete.
Nature slowly being nailed to the coffin,
a hapless prey to Man’s vaunting conceit.
Seasons too edging to their grave?
A day when clouds will no longer burst?
I hope not; I hearken to the missive
“The sky is deathless, Man is not”
Tombs stand for the remains of the dead.
Name engraved in deed, not in the head.