Drab days and stark nights,
Not the best time to fly kites.
The darkness that frights, the cold that bites,
Will soon make way for the knight who will
end all the plights.
Renewed and rejuvenated the soldier rises again.
Any effort to restrain in vain.
There will be thunderstorms and rain,
But one has to endure pain in order to gain.
Sunny, warm and joyous days are here.
The valiant soldier won the battle with his spear.
Smeared with colours and sans any fear,
Failing to forsee a predicament that is near.
Ripened and matured, it’s time to mourn over the loss.
Vitality and liveliness gone over for a toss.
A bridge where two rivals cross,
One emerges victorious and the other lays invalid on a bed of moss.
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