Untold Stories Poem by Khairul Ahsan

Untold Stories

As a child,
I loved to touch the loose skin
Of my grandma's hands, face;
I tried to smoothen out the wrinkles
By running my hand over hers,
Over her face, often wondering at their softness.

She used to smile at my efforts
As she kept chewing paan mortared with betel nuts,
Mixed with many other aromatic mint and stimulants.
Her lips got reddened by the juice and saliva,
Her cheeks turned pink as she chewed the mixture.
She used to look at me with affection
And hug me sometimes.

Now I realise....
Her every wrinkle had a story to tell.
Her loose skin at the elbow and chin
Bore the history of a lifetime.

Every old man and woman
Has many tales to tell.
Some do not realise this at all,
Some do, at the twilight of their lives.
Some look for an audience then, while
Some carry those to their graves, untold.

Khairul Ahsan
Moorabbin, Melbourne
20 January 2020, @09: 30 am