Old ...

We grow old. Its inevitable. Ageing is a beauty, a work of life's art- a sculpt of the creator. What's it like being old? Be it men or women, what goes in the mind of an old person? How does an ageing person view things new to them?

I was having lunch at this restaurant which I frequent when an old couple walked in. They sat calmly nearest to the entrance and waited patiently for the waiter to attend to them. They didn't take the trouble to whisk for the waiter and neither go out of their way to get one. Calm as they were and looked very much hungry as well. Looking at them from 2 rows down, I just couldn't take my eyes off that old couple, for they reminded me of my late grand parents. 

I could tell from the way they looked, their smiles and the way they enjoyed their lunch that they had come a long way, a very very long way in mannerism and etiquette. I betcha they have seen and experienced things I may have yet to know and learn.

I came back home, still thinking of the old couple. I powered up my notebook and I penned the below ...


The wrinkled shine...

I wake up only to pretend the sleep
I crave for each day had left me years ago;

I look out the window, all I see
is an empty blackness of dawn.

My skin wrinkled, rough and coarse,
scars blackened against the dawn;

It's another morning's 7 o'clock. I frown over,
no cream no sugar, black coffee is what I'm good for;

I can no longer hear the morning children,
My hearing too had left me all a sudden;

My pupils discoloured and watery,
as the skin on my palms peel away;

I wash myself for the walk I yearn,
That's the only thing I can do to earn. 

My legs are no longer the strong stilts,
with time they both had withered with my guilt;

May I play along with you my dear grandchild,
From the playground I faintly hear the fun;

I pick up my cane and hat,
And walk hurriedly slow to the gate;

Only to know from last night's rain,
Dew drops had fallen icing the gates;

I trod and plod forth hoping to catch my friend,
For she too comes to the ground to blend;

How is the morning today, I gaze into her,
All's well, only a day shorter to the maker.