The Old Age Poem by Charnjit Patialvi

Peeping through the lenses of spectacles round,
Like Vintage car holding on jacks with no wheels found,
We lay in the backyards, collecting dust,
With gone times catching rust,
Once we were the part of races,
Now cracking skin and wrinkled faces,
Like waxed creations at Tussauds case,
We’ver like flower vase,
Then were donning in grace,
Gradually we have lost the pace,
The colours of world seems now fading a bit,
Our Time has passed , to witness spectators we sit,
The world has changed a lot,
Now here we are the harried lot,
Cruising through the, thoughts of left behind,
Hazy pictures come in mind,
Causing lots of apprehensions,
How to proceed is now our tensions,
It seems we have finished our inning,
Was we right, or can we amend the remaining,
When our trembling foots we stand,
Which were once the firm foots on the land,
Keeping with the pace of time to go,
It always made destination know,
Which were always egar to move,
Now need clutches to move,
The hand which created marvels once,
Are trembling like wading leaves,
Hardly we count the best under our sleeves.
The face which raised many eyes,
Have become the matter of lies,
Smiling through the artificial jaws,
Slowly we get the deal of outlaws,
Faking happiness To make others please,
Is the only way for tension release,
And, show we still are happy with life,
Both the Husband Or Wife.
O! dear this is Life,
Yes! dear this is Life,
This is the time to analyze what we lost,
The score board of the past,
Waiting for the final call,
Till then you may recall,
Many have moved, its my turn to come.
Making way for others to come.
We are the part of game,
It has been played, still it will be the same.