Bhishma

Love and death stood together,

One at the back of the other.

Both waiting to kill Bhishma,

The one who was devoid of two.

Love like a flower of fire,

Burning to take revenge for past,

Dressed as a warrior with arrows

And adamant to tear his heart.

Like a cupid, it hit the arrow

And the tired old eagle struck

His heart was heavy, wailing to die.

Then came the devil, named death

Shooting arrow after arrow.

And Bhishma like a man of velour,

Met death like an old father.

And thus lay on his arrow bed.