So insignificant and simple
May be the sequence of routine.
Instead of beauty – a humble pimple
Of carelessness in seventeen.
In thirty-three you are almighty,
By forty-five become so flighty
With the obsession of sweet dream.
But independently the stream
Of every day makes own affair.
For sure, one day you will wake up
And find yourself as if a spare
And useless player or a pup.