Every year which passes,
we unknowingly pass our
death date.
The life
would be over.
Thats life.
We each vary a span
in which we cannot
control.
We are like mayflies.
Complete our tasks
we have passion for
before the clock strikes
twelve.
YOU ARE READING
Airplane: A Collection of Poems
Poetry"People are like planes in an airport, and are like water coming and going from shore, some stay when a plane lands from far away, and some go like water receding from the day..."
