Those few last days!

These last  days of the year, make me anxious.
For the time that is slipping by was precious.

Don't want these days to pass, want to hold on to them forever.
For the time that flew away so fast, will never come back ever.

Tried to live in the present, as best as I could.
Still the passing time pulls me back as hard as it would.

Growing a year older with not much wisdom on turning page.
For some still ask me to grow up and act my age.

Don't want to bid farewell to anyone or anything.
As I am content with what I feel and have, within.

But has anyone held time? It is not possible.
So, I shall also follow it, chase it and be sensible.

The Christmas Tree

My Christmas 🌲 tree is growing up so fast,
last year it was shorter than my daughter.
This year it has grown up past,
her excited face, head and laughter.

It's not just a tree with some ornaments,
some lights, clumsily decorated by little hands.
It is a living soul that brings joy and excitement,
a companion illuminating lives, in a way grand.

The twinkling lights, light you up,
like little hearts beating in unison.
The cheer and squeals it brings,
giving reasons for memories to be spun.

I hope it grows into a handsome 7 feet tall tree,
looking over the girl who looked after the sapling.
Wrapping up in its needles, my family's glee,
Keeping the souvenirs of memories in a string.

Life journey.

 Life is a journey, have heard and read a hundred times. The journey is unique. One of its kind.
People keep travelling towards the unknown all their lives.
Everyday they set different goals. They travel towards what they think is most important to them.

 Just like our own existence, our journeys are also absolutely  different from any one else's. People's priorities, their passions, their interests are as different as the patterns of the snowflakes. No two are ever alike. And these constitute and decide the path one chooses.

Life journeys are like the water flowing in a river, it never returns to flow at the same place. Life is like the fingerprint. It cannot be copied.
Still, we gauge our depths and distances covered with some body else's measuring tools. As a result even our units don't match.

The bricks of  our  journey's foundations are exclusive, they are laid by our birth, the people in our lives. Our pain, our sorrows. Joys and pleasures, our losses and gains. They are laid by our principles, our upbringing, our character and personality which is baked in the kiln of life. Making them distinctive.

Still we torture ourselves with harsh comparisons, making the mistake of comparing it with other's journeys.