Getting Old Poem by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph

From Jasmine fifth floor, in FDA I can see
The tree with leaves shining –
Not all green leaves, but a few,
Reflecting the Sun, risen in the East:
At the back the vehicles passing
On the Bandra Kurla Link road.

I don’t know the name of that tree:
If others don’t contradict, I’d proclaim
It is bhendi tree, which puts forth
Yellow cup-like flowers with red spot
In the middle, though not this season.
Shimmer recites, “Is it a small thing...? ”

My eyes are good and can see now;
Past the yellow flowers on my window:
Soon, a dullness will grow in,
And diabetes invade them
When the colours will be put in place
Only by memory, on someone guiding.

They tell me 63 is not old,
But I know better;
That which is within withers
Day by day, pain conquers
Bit by bit, and soon
I’ll have nothing left to live for.