A tragedy of sorts our nature
That follows a linear span-
With no memory of future
And no foolproof plan.
We spend more time prying
Big feet out of little mouths
And the remaining time crying
Over spilt milk running south.
At long last however
When wisdom, decided to sprout,
It had taken forever
And time itself had run out.
©Sai
20/1/21
Pic credit: Trym Nilsen (Unsplash)
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