The March Of Time
A Aniruddha Pathak
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The New Year dawns, hope with half wish,
The old seemingly losing dream,
And March marches, chill left behind,
In April spring springs forth full brim,
May-June sizzle in solar noon,
Mercury up like pressured steam,
And monsoon turns grey into green,
Rivers and lakes filled up to rim;
Autumn-fall then take a due turn,
Reminding of impending grim
Of chill again in endless chain;
All Nature's mortal it may seem;
Time marches on to chase its dream,
Seasons stick like a playing team.
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The lines with odd numbers run rhyme-less, while all even ones share one single rhyme throughout, and ends with a rhyming couplet— an atypical sonnet.
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Sonnets | 05.08.11 |
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