By Chaitanya Somalwar
The desiccated leaves lie strewn around, with the autumn rife,
On a rusty park bench I sit, trying to brood over my whole life.
Over eighty years, my eyes have seen, to innumerable places these legs have been.
My languid heart has loved and lost; my weary brain has now taken up the frost.
All the memories; merry or cold, new or old; have now began to crumble,
Even in my yearnings, when I call out my lost beloved’s name, I have begun to fumble.
All of a sudden did she leave me, making my life hapless and hollow,
What else can I do? Than pray to God that I am quick to follow.
A continent away, lives my little granddaughter; my bundle of joy rather,
Nestling in the warm cuddle of the man who has stopped calling up his father.
Oh! How long has it been! Since they visited the last!
Almost seems another lifetime, this memory from a long distant past.
Back in my youthful days, never from any hard work did I shy,
Believing like a fool; That the premise of a better future was just around, waiting by!
But now the chirping and chattering children of the park form my only source of joy,
Oh Fate! How wicked thou are? To have contrived this treacherous ploy!
All I can do now is regret all the joys and hopes that were encumbered,
And be comforted by the cold solemn thought that at least my days are numbered.