End you signal-of days, of weeks, of months,
Of all the moments, wrapped in the kaleidoscopic sheets,
Of joy, of sadness, of merriment and of sorrow.
In your winter blanket you cover all
That had beautiful flowers and velvety grass,
Sheltering the life in that insulated burrow.
In the backdrop of the sky gone lavender,
You paint the landscape with brown leaves
And mystical and enchanting fog,
Yet the competent and wise eyes see the unseen,
For they know beneath the surface, life persists,
And December is just an analogue.
A bridge in the making, joining the cobbled past,
With the road leading to the future,
Yet to be explored and yet to be known,
Dear December, how profoundly do you teach us,
The end is not the end, but a new start,
For such an end, why to moan?
You summon us to celebrate it as the beginning,
With a cluster of stars, hung like the lanterns
In the clear sky, in a pattern so exquisite,
Oh December! You set the stage for another play,
An inexorable end you might bring
To the one ongoing, and yet-not quite!
Copyright © Aradhana Mishra