ALL MY DREAMS HAVE TURNED BUTTERFLIES (A POEM)
All my dreams have turned butterflies
And are visiting flowers in other gardens!
My garden must be arid not to interest them,
Compel loyalty to an old decrepit gardener!
Free spirits can never be chained by Time,
They must forever live and be young to roam!
Advancing age can never camouflage one
Young in spirit and eager to beat ageing,
Today it is the butterflies, and tomorrow
The garden too will fly away hunting
A new gardener who will tend it better
With greater care, attention and precision.
Old age interests none but museums,
But even they preserve only monuments
And medieval artifacts of ageless wonder.
An old man is only a pompous scarecrow;
None can hear his soul clapping with joy
At the panoramic scenes of yesteryears!
Note : This poem was inspired by Syd barett's (Nishant's) D.P. EVOLUTION OF DREAMS
