My Old Guitar

Always knew a day will come ashore

When I will be forced to kill the child in me

When I will be running perpetually in this never ending race

Race for money, race for power, race for happiness

Race for survival

And now I sense, I never really sang that song of love

I always had the tune of which, in the back of my mind

I never really showed to this dismayed world

The happiness, I had in me

But still I console my soul

By telling her the description of a day

A day when the world will change its face for me

A day when I will sit with my old guitar under that old tree

With mountains in front and with cold that could freeze

With clouds all clear, and the mollifying breeze

On that day, I will sit with a quiet hope

A quiet happiness, searching the old me

And will sing the songs of life, of death
of happiness, of fret, of emotions attached to a soul

And of all the beautiful seasons of my life, I could not hold

Will sing to the cold breeze

Will sing at the top of my voice

Because no one would hear to judge me

And yeah!!.... I will be happy, no more cries

And at the end of the day, I won’t feel sad

Because I never learnt to play any other instrument

But feel satisfied from my heart

That I can still play all the seasons of my life

Through……… my old guitar