SONNET 206
By JH Sayyar
When I in lone O Fair, ruminate,
Life is the slave of moving years
I come to know this fact very late,
Now think on it eyes full of tears
When someday I see in the glass,
Printed years on my wrinkled face,
I feel my pretty youth’s youth loss,
Cruel time snatches my all grace.
But my thoughts time can’t decay,
Thoughts belong to soul never dies,
Nor time. place, nor night, nor day,
Kills a good soul to others beautifies.
So I do put my soul-voice in rime,
It can’t be perished by cruel time
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