The man on the Hill

When the storm did break,

why didn't you stop?

You left me all alone.

The way, Abhishek!

to make the top

is to make your own.

You're here, said she,

the past doesn't matter!

Come, enjoy the view.

Oh, not for the valley,

I threw my arms at her,

I've come up to see you.

At the Eleventh Hour

[A quatrain I wrote for a friend on his 23rd birthday. Isn't it funny how some people have lists of things to do before they turn xx? I used to be one of those people.]

If one year were one hour then

A year in the day is left;

So toil hard this hour past eleven,

And party after the twelfth.!