You may not have given us what we want,
But have taught us what to do and what shan’t.
You may not have acquainted us with flight,
But might’ve given us the potential to fight.
Sitting in the present,
And getting taunted by the past,
Makes me ponder over you.
You sound so far away,
But we are just too doltish to realize you are every day.
Sometimes I conjecture,
Are you bright?
Or are just like the past with exiguous light.
Each day of past regrets and future fears,
To-morrow, not in the blues.
God willing not to give me bad luck.
Uphold me, I don’t want to be a mere schmuck!
// This poem has been penned by 13-year-old Saanvi Patra and has been chosen for publication on our platform from the weekly submissions //
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