Why!
Why aging turns us like plants of autumn,
With slightest sentimental touch cause
To shed fragments of memory as dry leaves;
Either piled on, or blown by wind to ditches
To convey only message of loss and sorrows!
If variety is the spice of life
Why not the memoir of elders to be?
Where did fly the glory of the past, story of romance?
Are they gone with the wind in some arid desert,
To leave warm sigh and to release hidden tear,
To vaporize through strainer of memoir!
In spite of highlighting the sad, bitter part,
To add some flavor, can it be served as dessert
With sprinkle of humor and laughter ?
I remember my cute young niece
Once fell down from a swing and hit her head
She got up with tearful eyes but pretended
Not to cry and to say,"see me Mom,
I got hurt from falling yet I’m not crying !'
Perhaps so little yet so strong and great lesson
The psycho-somatic difference on the plane of aging!
----------
No comments:
Post a Comment