Answer Me, Please! Sonnet 179 Will I survive the night that's layin' the bed For me and calling me to go to sleep In her indistinct arms; "No dread... no dread..", Her cradlesinging me for falling deep? Will I be able to behold the morrow As it unfolds its sunny splendors wide, Over the dew-fill'd medow, drifting billow, And pluck from heaven my lost peace and pride? Won't the night betray me, yielding me Into the eternal hands of death; that when My fighting mind has stray'd away from body, I will fore'er be held in darkness then? But the night does wake me up to the day. Why then the questions do return, please say. ©️ N P Samal
I am at sixty now and life doesn't mean The same what it did mean when I was fifty, And moving farther backward, into a teen, I find each other meaning there is empty. Yet while one teen is lost in sense of rolling In mud or learning how to master cricket, Another kills self if denied of smartphone using, Or frequents