• Vol. 07
  • Chapter 05
Image by


These eyes saw roses and daffodils,
They saw the snowflakes fall,
They saw the beauty I wooed and chased...
They saw wars and bloods too...
Until all they can see is nothing.

Mock not my wrinkled skin;
It once bore fitly eyes-feeding biceps,
Honoured front pages of magazines,
Enchanted queues of fair-looks,
Won me unsolicited advances,
And tons of compliments...

Hey child, I wasn't born bald,
I wasn't born rickety;
The sun baked my hair by the strand,
Only the last of the strong ones survived;
And that, just a few.
The flakes of winter stretched my skin,
The heat of many summers burnt out its beauties...
I have worn time into rags,
And so it wore my being in rags.

Child, O dear,v Worry not,
You shall trail this path soon,
And you shall tell another child of your rebirth.