A New Year's EveA Poem by PratikOne pleasant autumn has come and gone, The robin has sung its very last song. Winter is here on its midway, Frozen lakes , snow on the highway.
December 31st; Eve of the New Year, Festive mood; euphoria in the air, Maddening crowd and twinkling lights, The city will see one big, crazy night.
Houseful pubs and flowing wine, The party has begun when the clock struck nine. Noisy nightclubs, legs shaking in the discotheques, Streets get merrier as the night turns opaque.
Snow falls thick, the cars’ tortoise-crawl, Cascade of honks in the traffic snarl, Some to their homes, some to have dinner in the candlelight, Everyone is up for New Year’s night.
Out on the street there is a boy called Tom, Frostbitten hands; a short, skinny form, He wears a sweater made of scanty fur, He is busy wiping the snow off the bonnet of a car.
Some pay him two pence, some pay him three, Tom laughs out loud, he is mad with glee, From one car to the other, little Tom roams, Ten more cars and then food for home!
Pop open the champagnes; Let us bathe in the beer, The clock has struck twelve; it‘s Happy New Year! Strangers hug and the couples snog, In the dark pavements, the mist thickens into fog.
The heavens above glimmer in fireworks, In a shack of a slum, a little Tom lurks. His father is dead; his poor mother weeps, Thousand little Toms lay awake, but the cold city sleeps. © 2011 PratikAuthor's Note
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17 Reviews Added on October 9, 2011 Last Updated on October 9, 2011 AuthorPratikRaleigh, NCAboutHello! I am Pratik Mukherjee from Calcutta, India - the city of Mother Teresa and the famous poet Tagore. My pen name is Aaran, a variant of the word 'Aran' and derived from the Aran Islands, a gro.. more..Writing
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