When I look at the colourful flowers, the green grass, the cheerful sun, the silent sky, the creamy moon and the shining stars;
I feel there is no rush.
But still the year comes to an end.
Even this year too, shall pass by.
And then I’m left thinking,
Time — where do you fly away?
What’s the hurry!
Where do you rush?
For the daily prompt: Rush
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