Age is catching up! Whether liked or not
Receding hair lines increasing waist size
Surging tummy fading eye sight
Shortened pace subdued patience
Not all of us brace this with grace
Futile efforts to appear young
Coloring the hair craving for looks
Dreaded is the mood to be known as old
Nature is the preacher from times immemorial
All that is young bound to become old
Body becomes old brain remains gold
Expertise we derived never leaves us deprived
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem