The ripples of sea water,
The sunset there,
Beckoning waves and the blowing winds,
And the passing Sun’s blare:
The end of one ‘Day.’
The ‘day’ tough though,
Toiling through and through,
Not to talk of a break;
Not even heeding out through the track,
Consequences it might yield to,
Work and Duty- being the lone facets to cater to.
Who knows how the sunrise tomorrow is going to be,
The vast oceanic life is culling to be.
Her job is done,
But no eye to if it should leave woe or fun;
A new ‘Day’ and novel responsibilities,
And again a selfless journey without knowledge of all
feasibilities.
The curls and curves of life,
A voyage as though on the edge of a knife;
So amidst this vulnerable ambience,
One and all has to carry through with patience,
Shattering all sense of expectation,
Lest they end up in one’s wish’s violation.
That very person will then continue to view every sunset there,
As each day passes and a new day awaits with glare;
And then through the red sunset, she will peep into the golden
sunrise,
And someday her heart will unfurl with joy and surprise,
That her honest labor is here to gratify,
The caustic salt of the sea water failing her toil and success to
ramify.
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