I loathe to turn last page of life

I Old Age, let me not be a fugitive, Renegade, nor an earnest votary, Yet, when ye arrive on one unknown eve, Let no stray doubts dwell on my loyalty. If youth’s relished, leaves a lifelong footprint, A touch of enduring grace does it give, And on how-to-cope-with-old-age, a hint, Or else, O hasten that sooner I leave. Yea, nigh fit, let me at my peak retire, I know, Time pursues all. Need it harm too? Let it paint grey my brow, the least my heart, Pray, help me retain grace, O Sacred Fire, I know, old age comes with its unique hue, Do bless me with some poise ere I depart. II Bless me with elegance before I part, O Spirit of Time, build me a bit brave, Not frightened man left with no fighting dart— A man with frantic thoughts of burial grave. Let me age if the child stays young in me That, I re-live what I missed in childhood, In youth, explore rudderless boat at sea, That when old, I need on not so to brood. I know, easy ‘tis to build a brave child Than tinker with one cast as if in stone, O let me never regret thee, Old Age, So, let my old age be nigh childlike wild, Let it be playful with a funny bone, No fugitive loathe to turn life’s last page. ______________________________________ Crown of sonnets |15.04.2024| Old age