All days seem special to me
there being a ray of hope
there seeming a tinge of joy
there apparently an activity
that dawns with the day
and advances with it
assigning nothing special to every other day
be it birthdays ,anniversaries
assigning no speciality at any cost
that be my approach all these years
I expect none to wish me for any day
as I feel I am born every day
and my sleep is a death every night
waking up as a new-born f
resh
dying like a worn out exhausted
that be my philosophy all through
which none like and accept.
Meenas Poems 