Thoughts crowding my heart
Of days lost in a trot;
A long way to go; time too short,
That too, very easy to part.
Clouds may make way,
For sunshine to bake hay,
Plans plenty in bay
What of future may pay.
Past, flirted and kicked were
coffins of goodness,
Too late, indeed, realise that fullness,
Gone, then born this lifelessness,
Dull and dreary worthlessness.
This, 'A melancholy strain'(borrowed from 'The Solitary Reaper by William Wordsworth) was composed during yesterday's sleepless night, when flashes from the past and anxiety about the days ahead, loomed large and a yearning for silver lining to regain the 'Paradise Lost'.
Narayanan Ramakrishnan.
Narayanan Ramakrishnan
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/coffins-of-goodness/
