To Mom, With Love

What is one more to the age of flowing perpetuity?
What is one more to the heart with rhythmic piety?
What is one more to the hands leading to heights lofty?
What is one more to the words soaked in pure gaiety?

What is one more to the dignity that bears life's tortuosity?
What is one more to the vision that beholds times eternity?
What is one more to the living driven by principles mighty?
A number, A day, An event - to revere the touch of almighty!

The Common Tale

Adieu Time Awaits All

I saw a dry leaf floating in the air,
Leaving behind all that is, after selfless tire,

Diving down the lofty heights he once surveyed,
No moans, no mourners; just the job well fulfilled,

He sustained the mighty tree and all its dependents,
No farewells, no bouquets, not a stage for vain boasts,

Staying through the summers, shivers and showers,
He was green, pale and brown, sifting multi-colours,

The dawn of the final plunge silently arrived,
Looking up beyond the canopy, he quietly departed!