The last act of the Play
The wanderer's wanderlust stopped at once
as he got a stroke.
He strolls with his walking stick only a short distance.
It's not like his early days.
When he was a stripling looks like a horseman.
He is speechless because of the shock
and gradually he became bedridden.
This handsome man never used a bedpan
but now his wife brings him all the time.
Life perverts him very unkindly
anyway the beloved with him as a shadow.
Flies and Maggots in friendly terms
because of the bedsores.
The innocent soul drowns in the shallow waters
and he fades away in the wakefulness.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Added by Poetry Lover
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