Season

‘Relation’ now is a feral term

No more bestow,

It’s a season of love,

Regards to times of yore!

You equip the love like the previous?

Then you may be in the walkway,

To the lovely history museum,

Where all are in the order.

‘Yes…!’  There may be visitors,
With the similar rounded eyes,

Sixty degree inclined to left,

With the dim-witted findings!

Somewhat missing the initial shine,

 The cock – crow time, half dressed,

Two fold or three times you give,

The fashion now is ‘un attend’!

The more you give, the more you wait,

And more you wait, more you think,

The more you think, more you sob,

More you sob, you will sob… that’s all!