An old man.

Ragged with age,

Clothed in tatters,

Their he sits by the road,

In the shade broad

Away from the scorching sun,

That had caused him the burns.

The wrinkles on his face

That age had gifted him,

Magnified by the struggles

That life had bestowed

As if a shower of blessings.

Never had he wished for comfort,

Never had he been deceived by it.

Now, at the final step of existence

He sits lonely as ever,

Reminiscing the bygone.

The days of youth,

The love the lust,

Even he had withstood

The storms he had witnessed,

The coffins he had passed.

Loved had they been,

Now no more.

His life on the verge

Of the chasm to his beloved,

Waiting with open arms.

An old man weary of existence.

 

The busy day continues,

People hurry about

Unaware of the lone existence.

Not considering it as an existence

By the road, vying for attention

Spreading forward his palms

For sake of some alms.

 

10.33 pm, 3^rd April.

Please do read and comment on my efforts if you find this post popping up anywhere near you :P