“The Secret behind His Red Woolen Cap”


The artificial snow has also got melted,
To drain the juvenile excitement away from this life;
In accordance to the years, have been trespassing me.

Relevantly all the silver stars glittering till yesterday,
Have cracked in itself;
And ricocheted to fall on the ground,
Dying to shed from the evergreen Coniferous tress;
In last spring-tales,
When my youthful days dried to get surmount.

The jingle bells have also got chained,
To get lost in utter silences;
In never ending, the vintage Rat race with Time;
As I sing old carols with my consequently slit tongue.

And the recent tidal waves in my Hometown,
Named as ‘Claus’;
Have down-poured from reminiscent tears,
And residual grievances of an old,
That whitish long beard, angelic grand old man.

Ooh..! Lately have confronted the breaking news,
To shockingly prove my nightmares to come true;
The secret behind his red woolen cap,
Which got drenched and got dyed;
When that old man died,
Meeting an internal head hemorrhage,
In curvy angles of our accidental separation;
To meet his satiric departure,
And so retreated from the good old days;
In a sweet good bye…
Bye to my memories of merry Christmas.

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