Withering Age Poem by Lopamudra Mishra

Puzzled himself with the number of age moult,
days new pass with calendar count,
withered age and failing vision,
hold him ground.
The power and pomp he was,
addicted, brought him down.
Loneliness surrounds him among the sound,
his mind often wanders to nostalgic background,
frailty of his health babbles for dear one's round.
The irregular pattern of his sleep and chore,
disturbs clans around.
Now gruffly answers to the subject bound.
Longs for tasty bites,
but body disallows him for wholesome spite.
Becomes stubborn with time's light,
everyone cautions him to stay upright,
but he believed age has not withered his right!
He is becoming more bold,
asking the age to hold,
and loves to live life again in a whole..