What is life? An illusion, a mirage my dear,
With woods so lovely calling you my child,
I crept slowly, caught his hands, but was it enough my dear?
Saw a distant dream, will it turn to reality?

Emotions were there that day, presently too,
The sweet touch, roams all over body,
The feelings so enchanting, hardly expressed,
But fairy seldom holds your hand.

Fly high! We act roles varied and wild,
Career of pride and vanity,
The dream to be best in every sphere,
But it’s never viable my dear.

Man is mortal hard is truth,
But why so effort to earn my dear,
The petty issues, the rat race we entangled,
Left will be only the footprints in sand.

Did thou cry? Why thou do? Feel like a bird,
Reach the sky and still eye beneath,
Relish dreams, strife hard, only a wink of smile is needed,
What left is an overly elation.

A poem like this of mine is not different,
Life is like a poem-a mirage, my dear!