When we are young,
wild and carefree,
Little do we think of what will be. . .
Maybe when we are each eighty or eighty-three!
In the beautiful and sing song journey
Of cocoon to butterfly
No one thinks of the times that fly
Once while on one such walk,
the walk of introspection I call it -
My eyes chanced upon a moment of frailty...
His was a gait of cautious steps, oh so careful,
Of a life bound together.
The little eyes, in a crinkled smile,
spoke of the dream and all the fun. . .
Of wishes unfulfilled and goals yet to achieve,
of the forlorn saga of being branded old.
Why do we imagine the old always as old?
Haven’t they danced or run or been bold?
Why are Grannies always just so…
Let’s look into their eyes and let their story unfold.
For all those old, yet young at heart,
we meet and then forget,
Lets remember the eternal song of young hearts and old minds..
And then let’s dance to the joy of such tunes,
offbeat yet bold
Listen to their stories,
without any goal,
Just the feeling of experiencing an age,
Of grey hairs and steps that seem hard to control
Lets just once all of us be a bit old,
And feel their journey together and as a whole
© 2011 Maitreyee Bhattacharjee Chowdhury
( Image courtesy Google)