Author: Ritika Taran, Class X D
The Sun burns, burns, and burns,
Burning and sharing its light
But they say “what a sore sight!”
Thinking it’s not enough
It burns, burns, and burns
Nourishing numerous lives
Playing god to lush green vines
Resplendent flowers bloom
Farmer harvests his legume
What was its fault?
Boiling sea to make salt
The rays bringing melodious bird calls
Soon, it withdraws
Perhaps burning itself wasn’t good
Darkness replacing where it once stood
The Moon takes its chance to rise
Starting of nostalgic cricket cries
Humans come out with their lovers
The air filled with affectionate murmurs
Accompanied by glittering stars
People deep in thought, smoking cigars
The ethereal white hue
Plants laden with tiny dew
Humorous how no one notices
The dark, patchy blemishes
Or the ugly robbery
Of how so leisurely
It reflect the sun’s very essence
All stolen in the sun’s absence
Why do we mention the moon in all the songs?
When it was the sun burning itself all along.
