POEMS ABOUT AGEING

OLD AGE HOME

OLD AGE HOME

When life has become a specter of death,
Living is not a joy, simply a curse;
When each day is yet another ordeal,
Each night is full of memories but worse;

When loneliness is all that is around,
The world itself is hollow and empty;
When hope has been for all time to come lost,
And mind is full of depression plenty;

When old age home is the only home left,
Which is more like a mental asylum,
Where all the time is spent in guessing when,
For whom and how the call of death would come.

It’s then that one wishes that one were dead
And prays to Him to cut the slender thread.


* Written in abcb iambic pentameter format

M C Gupta
27 December 2005