The Canvas of Time

By Pilly Madhulika Sree

Time is a painter, bold and true,

Strokes of grey and gold it drew.

Each passing moment, a brush’s sweep,

On the canvas vast and deep.

From dawn’s soft hues to twilight’s glow,

It captures all we’ll ever know.

Shades of joy, streaks of pain,

Mingling under sun and rain.

The palette shifts, no colour stays,

Life’s picture forms in fleeting days.

You can’t rewind, can’t erase,

What’s sketched in time, we must embrace.

Each second spills like flowing ink,

Gone too fast to stop and think.

But every line, bold or faint,

Is the portrait of the life we paint.

Though time may steal and blur the frame,

Its art remains, untouched by flame.

For in its strokes, our story lies—

A masterpiece that never dies.

By Pilly Madhulika Sree