We people,
Us grandma’s and grandpa’s
you behold us
and say “crap.”
We move slowly,
but steadily.
you move fast,
but stumble.
Our wisecracks save you the day,
harvested through struggles and perils
wisdom stocked-
in life's play field.
Carrying wrinkles of life;
Hiding deep sunken eyes;
lifeless,
with living memories,
repertoire of stories.
Stories listened and heard,
metabolism of changing seasons
entwined in a life
purge our sins 'O' saint,
on the altar of the newfound world
Behold, belearn, beget-
you child, budding flower;
sans fragrance; false pretence,
-on the altar of my life
I pray to you, child
grow old, but without wrinkles.
Nay, you are but a dream far from reality,
Its my world you inherited.
vinodkumar kizhakeveetil
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/getting-old-5/
