- White - Poem by Aparna Chatterjee

White hair
Is falling
Old age is
Calling
Soon death
Will be there
For the final
Hauling....

Suffering
Is appalling
To be on the
Bed, lolling...
Cringing and
Bawling....
Not being
Able to speak
More or less
Drawling....

It's all very
Galling....
Not being
Able to go
For another
Overhauling
Unable to
Read or write
Merely scribbling
Or scrawling....

Being confined
To bed and
Helplessly
Sprawling,
Going through
The mauling
And spalling
Of illness and
Disease....

Somehow
Recalling those
Enthralling days
Of movies and
Malling even
During those
Days of thunder
And squalling

Freedom lost
Friendships
Forgotten....
Being avoidant
And evasive,
Quite reclusive
Now are the
Days of silent
Stonewalling

There is no
Way of
Forestalling
Of what is
Befalling....
For remedies
And prognosis
One keeps
Trawling....

When it comes
To health, there's
No mothballing

Through this
Ageing process
It starts sliding and
Snowballing, rapidly
Going downhill till death
Dictates its final stalling.