You might wonder how came their end,
When they had walked around that bend,
Some sure-footed, some gingerly,
With nothing more they could amend.
No more bouts of garrulity,
And not immersed in vanity,
A maddened life not chasing them
That they could be with sanity.
These inmates once were steeped in care,
Had not the time to stand and stare,
But all that they can do is now
Lie pensive in their darkened lair.
Should you wonder what's on their mind?
Now that they've left the world behind,
Such musings are of no avail
Until you reach their alley blind.
Do know they are of every kind
Some with a heart and some unkind,
Yet, they're better than mortals all
You'd feel they are a worthy find.
Do know that call you need abide,
When you would take that final ride,
Do let us know how death treats you
For we'd be anxious on this side.
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
how death treat us, we should know..
Thanks Gajanan, for liking my verses.