! ! Nostalgic Old Tales! ! ! - Poem by Rema Prasanaa
When I grow on my wise perception of prime age
An old age home, I do not crave for definite
I allow you children, to take away my belongings and
to honour the love and feelings shared along
I advise you all, not to fight on a war field
to share my riches in a frame of acquisitive rant
Do not beleaguer me to share my life
Like a fragmented soul with any of you....
Share my possessions equally except my soul
when I grow old enough in your minds
for me to go in an old age home
A hand note is enough for me to fathom your requisites
as you all share a part of me from my inner
For further reasoning on austere terms
I construe your freckled lines clear enough
Leave me to a riverside where I sit and gaze
At the most elegant mountains and a sun rise
I can amalgamate my old age in a way I design
And there I don’t need any fences or blockades...
On the finale of my life, I do not require a
Requiem of nostalgic old tales on the
serene shore of my contented life.........
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