People counted on are drifting away.
Trust in them for care is evaporating.
Siblings have become as good as dead leaves.
Offspring is wilting to be a promise.
Wife has turned a doubtful candidature.
Not to say about in laws, not my blood;
Anyone past eighty will experience this.
Fear of helpless death will gnaw him till death.
06.03.2018
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Such a great poem, dear poet👍👍👍