Autumn Years of His Life
I saw that elderly man this Sunday
He says he travels to my town everyday
In his 80s he appears feeble
His reedy bones are seeable
This old chap is thin as a stick
I find him so polite, I call him a brick
He looks like a parched tree without fruits
His body tremors and dying his roots
His grey hair looks neat and smart
But his wrinkly face looks swart
He keeps walking at a snail’s pace
Unlike us, he’s not a part of this rat race
He has no one to live for
There is no one he can die for
I don’t know where he goes everyday
I don’t know what is he searching for
Oh old man you’ve outlived your family
You now look older than the hills
You too should depart this life peacefully
You don’t deserve this agony
and desolation anymore
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