Who are we andwhat are we differentiating all about?When after few decades we all are going to thesame unsorted, undifferentiated soil.Or maybe minute stars, all besideseach other in thatfigurative constellation!
Chemistry wasn't all about acids and bases.At laboratory, she learnt it through his gaze.Illuminating the sparks,Between test tubes.their age was a balanced chemical equation!
She is the art to the canvasString to the violinWords to the letters not postedMess colour of the paletteRainbow to the shine and rainFire flame to the candleAnd love to the unlovedShe is surreal.
This world alone is not enough.I need someone to make my latté old and classy over the time;Just as the wine does as it ages.I marvellously pout, exhaling air on the brim, to make my coffee lukewarm.Stealing glimpse of those eyes.Carefully those fingers wipe the cream cornering on my lips.The clock ticks, with those sips.Residues of coffee beans lie on the bed of the cup, as I reach to the Epilogue uninterrupted.
Consulting summer's clock,But half the hours remain.I ascertain it with a shock --I shall not look again.The second half of joyIs shorter than the first.The truth I do not dare to knowI muffle with a jest.
The frog half fearful jumps across the path,And little mouse that leaves its hole at eveNimbles with timid dread beneath the swath;My rustling steps awhile their joys deceive,Till past,--and then the cricket sings more strong,And grasshoppers in merry moods still wearThe short night weary with their fretting song.Up from behind the molehill jumps the hare,Cheat of his chosen bed, and from the bankThe yellowhammer flutters in short fearsFrom off its nest hid in the grasses rank,And drops again when no more noise it hears.Thus nature's human link and endless thrall,Proud man, still seems the enemy of all.
The Winters are so short --I'm hardly justifiedIn sending all the Birds away --And moving into Pod --Myself -- for scarcely settled --The Phoebes have begun --And then -- it's time to strike my Tent --And open House -- again --It's mostly, interruptions --My Summer -- is despoiled --Because there was a Winter -- once --And al the Cattle -- starved --And so there was a Deluge --And swept the World away --But Ararat's a Legend -- now --And no one credits Noah --