Balding in young age
Sweat of burning books in midnight oil
Causes receding hairlines on young scalps.
The mirror becomes a place for refuge
And false trees are sought to hide the Alps.
young minds tremble with goosebumps oft,
And pry to over-hear people’s hushing talks,
Foreign voices get trapped in soul to echo,
In rooms of worry, ghostly knocking stalks
The train of life pauses on rumoring brakes,
The swaying that had lulled to sleep wakes
Up fellow travellers who further leak oil
To burn in murmurs many silent lakes.
Crooked brows try to embrace bare temple,
By feigning needless amazed looks,
Like the bird that hides its beak for shame,
When it’s nest is blown into the brook
None but time teaches a son that true pride
For one’s middling father’s scaled not by height,
But like the balding patch, it’s with ease
He learns to compromise with his sight.