The olden age is a golden age.
He lost his teeth and so the taste.
He lost appetite.
No lustre, no vigour, no company.
Lonely, no more with the bed mate.
Is old age a curse? No.
I am in no demand, no obligation.
All the time is mine; a lot to do.
The things once aspired,
The things once left unfinished,
The things once abandoned,
Now I have to do,
To do before time runs out.
I shall do it as I wish
And when I wish.
I shall feel the feeling of well being.
The old age is a golden age.
01.07.2001, Pkd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Added by Poetry Lover
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