Almost withered, the lean, leafless flower
Smiles in half of twigless green
Like an aged woman
Banished from the heaven of beauty--

Smiling as a gesture to shower, in vain,
The sprinkles of youthfulness of expired skin,
Rusting in ageing bony pits
As if left in lurch like an exploded balloon!

Smiling in hope of regaining the lost world
Or painting the little beauty
In the hues of joy and happiness
To replicate those young budding days.

So what if lights of the day bruise the skin
In the flickering twilight of life
The beauty of life ever glows with hopes
Even if darkness folds it in its nighty gown.