Valsa George Poems

Time is the cosmic beat
The length of life’s yarn
It is the harbinger of change
That leaves rude etchings on the face
...

I reached the station well on time
My train had arrived and stood ready
The place by then had become a sea of men
The crowd steadily swelling into an eddy
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As days depart silent
When this clown ends her show
Some will applaud and some will sneer
No more concerned-though I know
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Here I see a hundred moss grown graves
There is a mournful silence that deepens
Through the weed grown path, no traveller walks
The place, some morbid warning portends
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The blue sky, dotted with white clouds
The sun, in its last lap of race
The slanting rays gleam in crystal glow
Their beauty to the earth they bestow
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Who can resist the strangulating grip of time?
That which exists today is not there tomorrow
Like shooting stars which vanish in the flicker of an eye
Life comes and goes quicker than a speeding arrow
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Bundles of joy dropped from heaven
Holding enormous possibilities
Acorns from which giant oaks grow
The hope and light of the world
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I am a wanton butterfly.
With Aurora, I start my day
on viewless wings I float by
sucking honey from floral cups
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In my dream, I sailed away
Over the tame waters of a tranquil bay
And landed in a magic isle
Never set foot before by anyone alive
...