SONNET 458
By JH Sayyar
Time is a thief of my poor youth
Snatches my fifty and seven years
All slave of time; it is a bare truth
Now left over days are full of fears
My Rose time steals your juvenile
Day by day fading the cheeks soon
Turns into feeble walk life: a trial!
Happy days go with you all croon
Come youth! Let me see your look
Tell me how you steal my age-art!
Ah you steal by hook or by crook!
I find your lodge in the girls’ heart
Time is a real foe of old and youth
Time punishes all; there is no ruth
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