Tag Archives: old

Wrinkles.

As my breathing turned laborious with every tick of the smallest hand on the clock, the touch of the metal felt colder against my burning toes. I had wound up in a hospital bed after 87 rounds around the Sun, give or take a few, depending upon my father’s memory. I tried to move my feet away from the bedstand but it required too much energy, much more than I could expend. Tears rolled down my face, tickling my hot face, nestling in my week-old stubble, but there was none to wipe them. My hands lay by my side, feeble and wrinkled. I reminisced the touch of wrinkled hands on my skin over the years – the grandmother who nursed my fevers, the mother who taught me to cross the roads, who I later accompanied to hospices, the wife who died in her sleep while she held my hand. That touch of wrinkled skin is what I longed for again, as I lay breathing my last, my skin on ice and fire at the same time.

Graciously Yours!

Still looking…

Silently he stood, wrinkled eyes wide, mouth pursed,
Putting together the world piece by piece.

The trees had grown up only to be sheared,
The jungles turned into concrete.

The view from his window of nesting birds,
Had been replaced by hoardings of beautiful girls.

The balcony of the next house never opened,
The children too busy becoming ‘smart’.

A school bus stopped by their building,
The mother busy typing, blind to the child’s smiles!

The ice cream vendors had died out over the summers,
The playground became the lover’s park.

He would miss the view from his balcony,
However changed it may have become.

The truth of life still scared him,
Now that the doctors had given up too.

Who knew what would entail his death,
Would he be happier there, or just not unhappy?

Graciously Yours!