My Dear Friends. Poem by Nabakishore Dash

Skull bald,
hair silver,
Eye brows white
Eyes are four.

Gum flat,
many teeth gone.
Artificial teeth,
root canaling done.

Feeble muscle strength,
mastication improper.
Often teeth bite tongue,
Food enters the wrong door.

Digestion weak,
Gas is more.
Unclear defecation
is a regular affair.

Circulation weak,
stents are put.
Without medicines,
soul goes out.

Urine retention
almost lost.
Clothes wet with pee
before reaching the toilet.

Pot-bellied mid body,
tottering gait.
Third leg a must
or walking is lost.

Balance is lost,
minds are double.
Still man wants to live
despite the troubles.

Love with physicians
increases more.
(Remember, my dear friends)
only the Creator saves,
fees taken by the doctor.

If money and doctors
can save your life,
Why do kings, doctors
billionaires die?

Death is a must
once born.
What happens after that
is not known.

Children might be
desiring our early exit.
But social shame
makes them implicit.

We are all born
in early nineteen fifties.
Most of us must
have their duty finished.

Counting down must
have started.
Resolve the differences
before we parted.

'Harboring anger
is lack of wisdom and maturity.'
Impacts our sleep, health
and emotionality.