Mitro! Friends!
How long has it been
From when we were on the same shelf,
Our clocks' time
Behind time itself.
Negligence and promises,
With lesser voice than a bull,
Ditto zero,
empty But constant and powerful.
Marcus Brutus's level orator,
Speechless where it really counts,
Sitting on a throne of all
our criminal accounts.
The colour of the sky has changed
But only outside our house,
Leaves disintegrate down south,
Poles and hats play cat and mouse.
Who wants to rest on the chair,
Most polished and most grand,
Maybe someone with a cup
Of tea in their hand.
Bloodletters lackluster of life,
Imprisoned in our morning dailies,
We all gulp it down, with tea and biscuits,
In our cozy castle's bailies.
Mitro! Friends!
We should get together more often.
~Ajay
A/N - Indian Politics.
April 2017