November of Life

Time is on our hands we think
As we wake up in the morning
Not knowing that everyday we sink
Another day just in the offing
Nothing makes us stop and wonder
How long do we have left?
Then the day grows colder
Our conscious has been our theft



A minute passes by and you are fifty
Your body is old and weak
You sit and cry on the days spent nifty
Those days were but your peak


Hope these words have found you early
Not late I hope to effect some change
But if they haven’t then I am most sorry
As I am sure there are tears at the end of this page

Chennakeshav Shenoy