TICK TOCK


Time is like a ruthless old man
whose fist wraps firm
On the tip of his walking stick
So, he chooses to leave a tripatite  foot print on the ground - his background
With his two feet and his stick

Yesterday
Today
Tomorrow

So that even when his age rains
the weight of years on him
His acts get collected in
the pit stomach of his feet
So that his kith and kin
can learn a pinch from his lethal memories
etched by that tick tock sound

Time is such a ruthless fellow.

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