The Countdown-17 Poem by Smrui Ranjan Mohanty

THE COUNTDOWN-17

When the flower wilts
Wilts its desire to glitter and survive
No more it remains part of the plant
That made it bloom and smile
The aroma remains for a while
But its beauty and grace fade
Before it decomposes in the dustbin

A burnt cigarette in the ashtray
Remembers his good old days
When it began its journey with a flash
It goes back to its glorious past
When it was on the lips of the monarch
Fears to witness its unceremonious finale
Panics about its journey to end
In a handful of ashes

Once the man of the moment
Becomes a memory of the past
Once the focus of many jealous pairs of eyes
Finds himself in the crowd
With no one paying heed,
None looking at

Once the man at the centre
Finds himself in the corner
Trying hard to keep his body and mind together
With teary eyes silently watches
His self-esteem going with the wind
Making him golden zero
In the showcase of time

The flower sadly looks at the plant
That nourished and sustained it
Made it shine in the eyes of many
Knowing well it can never be part of it
Which held it,
Held its essence and colours
For such a long time

Smruti Ranjan Mohanty©
India
17.11.2022
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