It doesn’t count here, it goes down the drain!
Yardstick of recognition, measure of acclaim,
Navigating through the endless road,
Guiding hearts in fames eternal play.
It doesn’t count here, it goes down the drain!
Bereft of essence, barren of boon,
Void of meaning, devoid of bloom.
In the winds song, a silent mourn
Echoes promises, silent and forlorn.
It doesn’t count here, it goes down the drain!
Forgotten, abandoned where reverberation fades,
In solitude’s embrace where hopes strains
Close to blessings, beyond the moon,
In dusk’s soft hue, where dreams commune,
Buy fortune’s tune, to thrive and resume.
It doesn’t count here, it goes down the drain.
(Author is English Teacher, Kashmir Harvard Educational Institute; Habak, Nasim Bagh)
