Life In Year Poem by Pijush Biswas

Gentle the air blows, and sun does peep through
Amongst all those are free I play as bees,
Who two and half a months remain quiet; bow
Your heads to inflammable heat who gives this.

Although the years' fast and stiffly play
Singing, as if, a mere professional
Must give life to thee and me every day
And come out holdings to both in a hall.

December is so fast likely to March
Both they dwell, as assets of close a pal
Winter spares the clouds, but at summer parch
But life stood both, anyone's short or tall.