My Acts Of Old Age Poem by Naveed Akram

My acts are numberless due to old age,
Inside the front of my vision I am a cute baby;
Meeting me in the forefront is like occupations,
Lulling the flight, loathing the light, living the sight.
For the loose layers of the soul are starless,
Seeking the eyes of a wayward warrior.
My actions are actual, many freezes I have been,
With so solid matters of the taste and paste.
It were the acts of a livid war that were atrocious,
Wars halved the agenda of a whole nation,
In fact, the county declared war outright.

My acts are not accusatory, nor are the spread wings
A wonderful calumny, for my flying lesson is at an end.
This desire of the heart is against all hope,
Wayside warriors will object to the warlike men.
On the road they travel to the outermost regions,
Wayward mirror-like wasters are all warrior,
Traveling the stretch so calm and endearing.