by Supriya Zen

Created on: November 25, 2009

Wrinkled face and stoop posture,
old age is no less than a torture,
at every step there is bed of thorn,
unknowingly becoming the object of scorn.

I'll be fine, I'll be fine,
every day passes with this sign,
when they are sick or a little dull,
will to live gets reduced to null.
Still holding the blind faith in god,
I'll be fine against all odds.

Loneliness arrives with loud foot steps,
sitting alone on chair weaved with straps,
looking into the past, trying to recollect those days,
but everything is blurred as the memory also decays.
Still I'll be fine , they keep on murmuring,
in hope to survive or die without suffering.

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