Circles were many
That I’ve left in the course of life.
With them left behind
Were those staunch friends and well wishers.
Events were many
That I had in the process of life.
With them left behind
Were those endeared and longed for.
Now I turned yellow
Those with me have not seen my green.
Soon I’d go pale dry
When those with me would see my ash.
Every old one dies
Unsung by the people present,
Who haven’t seen his green,
His friends knowing not his death at all.
01.01.2014
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