Dear Life
Dear life, I have read your script, it is a piteous play,
Where youth, once bright and boundless, withers with each passing day.
The dawn, once kissed by laughter, cracks with a sickly gray,
The clock that keeps on ticking, mocks the lines we used to say.
No longer prince of playgrounds with dreams tarnished and ambitions dim,
The golden heydays vanish and are replaced by burdens—grim.
The wagons roll on onward, leaving me to watch and brim
With memories (from every depth, they sing a flickering hymn).
The leaves that used to dance with sunlight are now brown and frail,
The rivers of cascading joy have dwindled to a wail.
No daisies paint the meadows, just roses that prevail,
And the gusts of heavy winds foretell a tragic tale.
The stage grows dark and silent, the props and curtains fall,
The curtain call has disappeared, and empty is the hall.
No second act, no happy end, just darkness to enthrall,
The final scene is a lonely sigh and the curtain—closes all.
Hasan Zubair is a first-year student at the University of Hyderabad, pursuing a Bachelor of in Language Sciences after completing his high school in the science stream from Azaan International School, Hyderabad. His work explores themes of identity and resilience. When he’s not immersed in his studies, he loves playing football, and is often found on the field honing his skills and living the thrill of the game.
The Albion Review 