by

The last leaves fall down.
But his inscape is not bare.

Myriads of wild growths,
he’s pruned with shears.

His pupils blossom in the
distant desert too. But the

wind brings not only the
floral fragrance He’s a

lightship on the sea of
ignorance. His scarlet

desires lie frozen beneath
the moral cliff. Age and

efficiency aren’t always
correlative.Yet it’s time

for his funeral in service.
His knowledge will no

longer be ignited in the
classroom.That brass bell

will ring in his memory.
Retirement is foreign in

origin, unbecoming for his
indigenous passion. Robert

Frost’s two roads appear
again. He will make

another wise choice. To
retire to rest is to rust.

Dedicated to Mr. Sachidanandan T K, my colleague who retires from service on 31st March, 2020.

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