Thursday, November 6, 2014

The dusk of hopelessness

The dusk of hopelessness
Look at these lines, 
Deeply etched on this face of mine,
Each tells a story, 
Of joy, hope and glory.

Your load I smilingly and willingly bore, 
With strength and patience galore, 
When beauty was writ large on my face,
I was a symbol of youth and nubile grace.

With every little cry of yours,
Oh little one, I stayed up nightly hours,
Your tiny little hand I held, 
Every little morsel to you ,I fed.

And now my vision's failing,
I'm weak, frail , bent and ailing,
My hair is brittle and silvery white,
And with every ghost I have to fight.

My child, my mind is not so clear,
Memory fades and demons I fear,
Of death that's stalking me so near,
Now I need you most my dear.

Yet, in an old age home I stay, 
With blurred memories of work and play,
You have no time or will to stay, 
To hear my dreary tales of day.

But every wrinkle wants to say, 
A word, a look, a thought astray,
My darling son, youth doesn't stay,
It fleetingly finds it's way,
To a dusky land of hopelessness
To a dusky land of hopelessness....

Pic courtesy: Dr. Sanjay Dhawan 

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