Life, An Awaiting Game

Man's life, a waiting game like repeat rhymes, In womb and waiting, months look like long years, In pains then he's delivered, all in tears, But the game goes on as do testing times. College, career, on cutting edge of knife, Goose waiting for gander and goodly life, Profession and promotions and progress, In queues, on errands scarce can he catch breath, But there's no freedom from life's grinding stress, Disillusion sets in, awaiting death, And lo, when all this waiting makes him old, He worries life's hereafter on the hold, Applaud, nor laud, the game ends not as yet, Sent back, the game goes on, on a reset! ____________________________________________ What's life? There are as many answers as are people. This poem says, ‘Life is a waiting game'. Man waits all life for something or the other, and dies disillusioned; his train of fulfilment of desire not arriving still. ____________________________________________ Sonnets | 03.09.13 |