I'd die at fifty five

I’d die at fifty five—

A dream told.

I lived in a valley, a green valley

Under the blue sky;

Clouds came floating in

Like snow white lambs;

God sitting above the cloud

Was quite a gentleman;

His face clean shaven

With a Jinnah cap on.

His index finger was a

Magic wand, made things

Happen at his command.

Now that the shade is gone, the

Grey clouds weep and wisdom

Saddens my mind;

Happiness melts away

Leaving no trace behind.

Peace descends like mist,

Life stretches out like landscape

And is calm at the sunset—-

When I am fifty five.

19.07.18