Shehryar Khawar

It is your time, my friend; it is your darkest hour

All seems lost; and all seems dour

All appears grey; and joys are all sour

 

 

You sitting by that grave; yes you…the old woman,

appearing to be brave

Why do you sob and why do you weep?

Was it your son, whom you loved so deep?

Please, do not cry; wipe off these tears

He is not gone; hush all your fears

Look into your heart; you will find him there

He is but a memory apart; with a face so fair

 

 

It is your time, my friend; it is your darkest hour

All seems lost; and all seems dour

All appears grey; and joys are all sour

 

 

You holding a broken toy; yes you…the poor child,

who has lost all joy

Why do you sob and why do you weep?

Was it your treasure, you intended to keep?

Please, do not cry; do not be cross

It is but the first step on the stairway to loss

More toys will come, each precious and dear

More toys will come with each new year

 

 

It is your time, my friend; it is your darkest hour

All seems lost; and all seems dour

All appears grey; and joys are all sour

 

 

You, lost in your reverie; yes you…the old man,

all sick and lacking energy

Why are you sad and why are you glum?

Do you feel bad on what you have become?

Please, do not be sad; do not detest yourself

It is but the destiny, life solves itself

Your life was but a chapter, in the grand book of life

Your soul was but a traveler, on the path to afterlife

 

 

It is your time, my friend; it is your darkest hour

All seems lost; and all seems dour

All appears grey; and joys are all sour