Harvest

What I sow is what I pay,
but alas,
what I reap is not that to be.

I sow my dreams, my hopes ,my joys,

Why?

To make more dreams come true.

I nurturethe seedlings night and day long,

guard them from the evil song.

Dry summers, Autumns,Bleak winters pass,

spring time comes,

the day of harvest is at hand.

I Sharpen my sickle,

look up to the sky,

walk to the field where my green lay.

I reach my land,

to see a barren turf there.

I break apart.

Hours Pass,

I gather my scattered heart.

My trodden soul too I take.

I make a resolve,

not to make the forlorn green,

but as a last breath of air to my battered self.

This time I challenge God.

I sow my sorrows,

Hoping to reap back the world.

God turns tables,

success I yearn to gain,

Foes are all that I Obtain.

Life,

Why do you play this on me?

True friends ,if any ,and false alike,

This was my life.

Hope that yours, it was not like.

Mithun Abe Mohan.