• kriits 5w

    A talk , perhaps with dead

    I sat by the road ,
    And had a talk with dead.
    ' what is life ? '
    I asked it taking some breathe.
    It smiled at me as if , I would
    be having some flex, about
    a life I am living in nest
    And it replied -

    "Life is a story with many verses,
    One starts and rather other ends,
    Having some nexus , in their
    Stanzas , my friend."
    ( - it sighs )

    "It's like a ballad , you know,
    You have to sing along.
    Though in distress or in frown ,
    Though in happiness or in a sneer renown."
    (- it suspires )

    "You sing , you live , you explore.
    The verses in your style,
    And after some period of clock ,
    You start weaving them into your own rhymes."
    (- it inhales )

    "And one day comes ,
    You know and you realise.
    That someday you wouldn't be able
    to rhyme the verses ."
    (- it gasps )

    "You perceive that you wouldn't write them on paper,
    As your ink would be over the other day ."
    (- it exhales )
    ©kriits