Each single hour, is endless 
Like a full day,
and now this day,
Going on sabbatical 
In the soothing darkness 
Of this glorious twilight.
So please come, come now
Let us sit beside our tombstone.
Let’s bake our sorrows,
On this stone, parched under the sun,
Which will dry away our woe.
When these sorrows pop up
We will get the bliss,
Which for all these years,
Was lying hidden in our grave.
Dear, why are you looking back?
We have done our job,
And we have got our share too.
Even these birds are going
Back home, finishing their day’s affair.
Come, come now!
Let us sit on our grave
and bake our sorrows.

*Pummy Sharma



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