The other day, I was dusting my rarely-cleaned room <br />Whose pathetic condition requires more than just a broom <br />I looked at all my memorabilia, trying to trace my life’s graph <br />When suddenly, I came across an old photograph <br /> <br />It was of a younger, rudimentary version of me <br />The waist was bulging, the cheeks were chubby <br />And there was a look of innocence on the round face <br />Which, it seemed, was ill-suited for life’s fierce race <br /> <br />I gave a wry, all-knowing smile to the faded snapshot <br />And reminded myself that it was only a dot <br />In the zigzag line of life, with alternating joy and sorrow <br />But it would not matter, as I prepare for the life of tomorrow <br /> <br />I suddenly realized that I’d come a long way <br />From being the shy child, who never had anything to say <br />Now I’m more confident, and not so scared of life’s obstacles <br />Sometimes I’ll face success, and at other times, debacles <br /> <br />Life has given me a crash course in hard knocks <br />Weaklings never survive, so I’ve had to pull up my socks <br />And in our heads, there’s a lesson life always tries to fit <br />Whether one wins or loses, one should never quit<br /><br />RONY PATRA<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-photograph-6/
