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Century
If, into my future, I get a sudden chance to peep
I'd choose my ninety-fourth birthday hoping am still alive;
My mother left us at that ripe age while still in good health,
not live long, but I'd be happy to witness the scene live;
It is not my desire to be a freaky immortal;
From ninety-four, it's Test Cricket, just singles with my bat;
I wish to see what things would be on that momentous day
And to score a grand century is what I'm aiming at;
I need to be ethereally there cutting the cake
With my wife, those who matter, egging me for an encore;
All of us encouraging and back-patting each other
It's what I want to see in future, and what years I score;
My ninety-fourth birthday event is what I want to see,
But I also know that life is cruel and a known tease;
We can never know when and where our breath will be snuffed out
When we shall dance, sing and when our life will come to a cease.
Copyright ©
MB Farookh
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