The Drama Of Life

As the curtain opens,
I hear a shrill sound,
Insisting on the hailing applauses,
From spectators all around.

The cry turns to a stubborn kid,
Complying, what the heart insists,
The mind full of innocent plays,
And teeth shining with bliss.

Then he glitters as the Finnish Oriole,
Leaping upon the leafy tress,
Running after the heavenly fairies,
To impress one of these.

I see him growing,
Getting a lot stronger,
Exalting his stumpy whiskers,
And mustachios a little longer.

Oh! He loses his breath for a while,
His eyes are getting tired,
He demands a profound slumber,
Accomplishing all desires.

When the drama of life comes to an end,
The spectator placidly surround the man,
He played his part, quiet lively and well,
Yet I have no laud,nor the piercing yell.

Now he rest in his wooden bed,
Sheets of blossom to adorn the dead,
Rich with experiences no friends to share,
A graveyard so empty and bare.

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