1)
My asylum myself
Time past is past. Time gone,
My friends were killed,
warfront was more a place
of comfort and commitment
for them, They are now
martyrs.
Age has its gnawing toll
and dash,
I keep writing at least,
scribble
In a momentary pad of
flow;
For thews and sinews
Slow down due to impact
of age;
At times, my wife writes
for me.
My friends are all gone
now.
My home, my corner of my
choice
and myself are my forte
and my
New Life The beginning of
a
New span -
a New Life.
No comments:
Post a Comment