Strike of The Time

The strikes come all of a sudden . . .
This isn’t a war, for I am not fighting back
They come hurting from inside, asking why can’t this be –
I don’t know the answer
I only know the searing pain
And the fact that for all the brilliant days lit by ascending or descending footsteps
echoing all around my being . . .
I can’t, really can’t hang on to the time . . .
The Time . . .
The Time must win
And the Prisoners of Time will be left with a collection of smiles, tosses of the head,
And the few odd moments spend sitting together


About Surya Sunder

Anglophone Bibliophile
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