OLD AGE

When old age creeps
On the dying eyes
We listen and wait
for the wellknown footsteps
which was there
playing on the threshold
kicking the tendercocnut shells
and laughing like the beeds
in a glassbox.


Blanketing silences
and loneliness
tells the stories
of forlorn shores...
They wait and wait
till the memories
dies away with them
in a heap of ash
and cold dark fumes....