A day or two ago
met my friend of long ago
old she has turned
most of the calories burnt
by age and illness in one show
found her out of flow
staggers a lot in her walk
precise is she in her talk
physically she has lost
mentally she is still fast
hailed me by name all aloud
brought back the events from cloud
speaks out in a voice so clear
tells me I look like an old hag with cheer
Knew not where to keep my face
I pulled myself away with a long face
not able to accept that I am also old
she and I being the same age in fold
yet thought I am young not gone grey
as my black hair shines in the fray
with coloured dye minimal and slight
teeth all original and white
no make up whatsoever in sight
I deign myself in attire suitable
wish to seem like one capable
never did I think that I am old
with a smile now, I accept 'Old is gold'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
with a smile now, thanks, Meena, go on.