In the merry month of May,
In a morn, by break of day,
I woke up and I wondered,
Would I live upto hundred?
What brought about the thought,
With worry, I was wrought,
Of loved ones moving away,
Fears they continued to essay.
Prayers for all, I decided then,
And, follow the words of wise men,
Work! work with joy and pleasure,
Results and outcome, without measure.
Desires none, there shall be,
Happiness then, will continue to be,
Attachments always breed sorrow,
Think not of, what is for morrow?
Living for today, day by day,
Following the age old cliche.