n the eyes of the old and aged,

 

 

In the eyes of the old and aged,

all new and strange with warp

taking  a  mould  out of tune

and out of times, their own course,

 

where  questioning and quarrelling

grow bigger than reasoning

like sediments stuck up in zinc,

a process  hard  and difficult to remove.

 

handy wool in  dexterous ambience

yet  grandma’s eyes  synthetic  transparent

 getting torn pieces lie like abandoned

puppy in porch curled up  its future bleak.

 

grinders  and  mix  advanced yet

tongue and taste the same for all those

who believe in tradition  not short course.

She  believes not being vociferous.

 

What  about those days of carts

not cars when life dragged  by poor

and struggled :  now luxury eating

man’s conscience and control.