(a poem written in college)
GETTING OLDER
No jumping and shouting like before...
Life is not the same anymore...
I am no longer brave and bold...
Maybe I am getting old...
My limbs complain of pain...
Tired thoughts trouble my brain...
My (once) boiling blood is turning cold...
Surely, I am getting old...
The walk is getting slower...
Spoken words are fewer...
My hand needs another to hold...
Of course, I am getting old!
And of me, says a modern sage,
"At last, he is coming of age!"
- Pravin K Sabnis (1989)
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1 comment:
Like a white candle on the dais
such is the grace
of an aged face.
nice poem. keep it up.
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