The old man: A Poem

There again is the old man under the tree 
If I told him his life was a misery, he would agree
He had wished he was like the other old men in the street 
But nobody said anything even for a simple greet 

He once had wishes to go abroad on a ship 
But soon all ships stopped and his destiny flipped 
He looked down at the pond and cold water he sipped 
Even his nephews hated him and his long-lost script 

He sat under the tree praying for his end to come
He wanted nothing more than to disappear like Jem 
All his old buckled-up dreams came back to haunt
But he always told them he couldn’t be taunt 

Years and years passed and his script was gone
All people seemed to forget the old man and his tone
All his nephews were soon settled abroad 
But his little song hung in the air,sang to every newborn 

– Jan @jahnavigouri

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26 thoughts on “The old man: A Poem

  1. Hi Jahnavi, β€œThe Old Man” not just tell us how much you love your dreams but it also shows your ability to analyse beyond time, in a different character.

    Liked by 2 people

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