Posted in old age

Old Wine

She stares at his weak stature often,

Truly saddened to see his wrinkles,

Once dark and curly hair is grey,

His anxious mind is dark sometimes!

Growing old is cruel for others,

As it’s like watching leaves wither,

Fall to rot, disappearing forever,

With no trace of existence!

Though she forgets, her mind warns,

But her heart refuses and wants,

More time for him, for her sake,

As a father is much dear to her!

Kavitha Patchamalai

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Author:

I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. BY ROBERT FROST