Old Town Poem by ferdous mahmud

Buildings of old town look like a century-old grandpa
Bones brimming with history

My grandpa walked like the old poet Tagore,body bent forward
Read Quran in the middle of the night
Amidst the clapping of lemon flowers

Red-indigo box-kites dived in the skies,
While his aged hands fetched Bakarkhani cakes
Now, grandpa's home has long been turned into uncle's home
And, uncle's home, by and by, is turning into cousin's

Fragrance of Hasnahena flowers flows
in the lanes, alleys of the old, aging town
and through the rooftops
The silvery moon is up, flooding this evening
Echoing with the song sung by the limping beggar.

It seems, all of a sudden,
all those elderly buildings would fall down
Following my grandpa.