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Personal Note:

Poem Title:

Poem

The last leaves fall down.
But his inscape is not bare.

Myriads of wild growths,
he’s pruned with shears.

His pupils blossom in the 
distant desert too. But the 

wind brings not only the 
floral fragrance  He’s a 

lightship on the sea of
ignorance. His scarlet 

desires lie frozen beneath 
the moral cliff. Age and 

efficiency aren’t always 
correlative.Yet it’s time 

for his funeral in service. 
His knowledge will no 

longer be ignited in the 
classroom.That brass bell 

will ring in his memory. 
Retirement is foreign in 

origin, unbecoming for his 
indigenous passion. Robert 

Frost’s two roads appear 
again. He will make 

another wise choice. To 
retire to rest is to rust.


Dedicated to the protagonist in the poem, Mr.Sachidanandan T K.

First published in The Literary Hatchet.

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