AJIT Tribedi
Kolkata, West Bengal
How it happens, where it flies, in the air so high, so high
Clouds drift past, a silver thread,
Forgetting where the blossoms spread,
Noon rolls by in whispers sly.
When dusk descends in shade so deep, so deep
The sun is gone, the skies let go,
Fireflies in the thickets glow,
Yet time in time still dares to keep.
How the river bends and sways so slow, so slow,
Breaking waves in endless streams,
Fading songs and painted dreams,
Flows away but won’t forgo.
Morning wakes with golden rays so bright, so bright,
Birds lose sky in wings’ embrace,
How does time outrun its trace?
No one knows, but ponders slight.