I am actually
Looking forward
To a quiet yearend
In the garden
But suddenly
You will be airlifted
To a strange island
With manicured
Patch of green
And a long stretch of
Sand
Where have all
The good years gone?
They all belong to the past
Now
The sunrises and sunsets
Of your youth
Merry making
No longer makes sense
Too late in the day
For the gourmand
You aspired to be
But ending up
A hopeless islander
Happy eating with bare hands
Contemplating favorite
Homegrown delicacies
Of your past
You have sudden distaste
For noise
And bravado
& mindless merrymaking
Preferring
The silence
Of your room
You gingerly
Touch the gifts
Coming one after another
And remember friends
With bottomless supply
Of kindness
You cannot repay
What’s with
Counting the years?
You only hear
Laughter of your grandchildren
They who bring back
The innocent child
You used to be
You yearn for the island
This time different
Because the granddaughter
Is just a room away
In a strange white beach
With beautiful people
Living up
To various status
You have no desire
To match
This is the way
I want to remember
The month of my birth
Quiet by the sea
And looking after
A grandchild
You have not seen
For years
Happy
To live
A few good years
Just waiting
For my daughter’s smile
To bring me back
Where I belong
In a place
Where status
Doesn’t matter
And all we have
Is an instinct
To care
To nourish
Enjoy moments
You cannot define
Because
Eternity is all
In your granddaughter’s
Infectious
Countenance
Serene
And beautiful
Happy New Year!
-30-