As she told tales & rhymed her pride,
Stories
of ancient glories she lived;
Withstood
dire straits through strides,
Upheld aesthetics in the fire or floret.
Alas!
Whenever traded façade of one’s warmth,
With
legacy till it in significant shined;
So,
shalt come who wants the shares,
Exchanging
always muck with cash or kind.
With
eroded sheen, originals, now no golden,
As
past never left, till present such galvanized;
Where
generations built on holding cards,
That
accessed politicking & transnational prize.
Sponsored
cards what ain’t cared for flair,
As
ambitions from decay being derived;
Not
a day or two or few years it takes,
From
gold to dust that comes in no time. ☹
©
Pranav Chaturvedi 2020