At The Old Age

I was energetic like a running, galloping horse
Smart, quick, swift, and punctual all across
The young, adult, and middle ages of my life
And passed a happy life up around sixty-five
Never imagined of any disability or distress
But now at sixty-seven gradually I could trace
I'm proceeding to the ages of distress, disability
Utter hopelessness, disease-prone, inactivity
Muscles, veins-arteries, bones, all are feeble
Compressed, stiff; limbs and organs inflexible
Nobody, including self, imagines at the young age
Such a state of affairs may arrive in some days

Most of the aged people are often neglected
Suffer physically and mentally being isolated
Nobody in the family hears or cares for them
The passing of days is the last gruesome game
Tears roll down silently is of nobody's attention
Destined by fate to such an aged hapless person
Until God appears to the victim and puts to an end
All woes and sufferings to eternal peace, He sends
A few are lucky to have diet, medicines, and escort
I'm one treated with love, care, and untiring effort
But who can avoid the old age inability/inefficiency
Beyond the human capacity, it's upon God's mercy