Old Age

“Did you see my skin?

Did you notice my wrinkles?

I don’t matter to everyone like before.

I rarely get attention;

And sometimes not at all unless I ask.

I don’t run to the kitchen these days,

As I couldn’t do that with this energy.

My joints ache so badly,

But I don’t complain to anyone.

I slip down most of the time,

Because I’m not able to balance myself.

I wear a simple faded cotton jacket on my lose skin.

My muscles shrunk;

My hair turned grey;

I started losing my memory.

The scars are the deep wounds inside my heart that nobody listens to.

I still remember that pretty face when I was eighteen.

I have surplus amount of love for my family,

But sometimes I break down as my days come to an end.

I long for peace;

But mental agony of loneliness haunts me.

I want to live so much here forever,

And unfortunately there are a handful of medicines on my table.

I’m preparing myself for the last day.

Please don’t cry when I leave, but miss me at least once sometime.

Maybe when you see my bed empty,

Or when you see my walking stick on the corner of a wall,

Or when you look at a family group photo,

Or when you see my favorite old song.

I love you all.”