Few Would Believe

Dying old leaves flutter in breeze, Trees take it easy, who’d believe? Grey leaves fall that green grow on trees, Man grieves, trees cannot this believe. Light leaves from life on a short lease, A blessing ‘tis, few would believe. A grave’s not just to grieve, bent knees— A truth, gravestones fail to believe. Should memories at birth not cease, Lifelong lasts grief, hard to believe. All such wisdom’s for mundane ease, Said in solace, but who’d believe? If hair turns grey, skin shows up crease, It’s early warning, who’d believe? _________________________________ Musings |32.12.2020| Ghazal Topic: believe, grieve, death