“Every man is charged with 30 minutes of age,”
declared the queer forces in the old man’s dream.
A dream enamored of some degree of reality,
splintered as the old man opened his wizened eyes.
A sense of hope swept like wind,
in the misty horizon of his hazel pupils.
Tossing and turning- the bedridden grandpa
ventured across the globe;
searching for mysteries all stark and dark.
Now that his veins are shrinking and skin is fragile,
bones are dissolving and heart’s tired,
His shadow gradually tilts towards
the land of his musings.
Tick tock strikes the clock,
Left right swings the pendulum,
Trumpets blow, drums go da dum da dum.
They all sing a hidden lullaby,
unforeseen adventures await grandpa’s rise!
Every man is charged with 30 minutes of age,
so the age ends but life prevails.
A peculiar hue of dawn crawls over grandpa today.
A stir here and a stir there,
A leap of joy, a visionary’s glint,
Escaping and eluding; the soul surges out,
finally embarking on immensity.
Tick tock strikes the clock,
Left right swings the pendulum,
Sailing upon the surface of his unvoiced dreams,
regression to the mean!
The bedridden exterior once entitled, “grandpa”
rests placidly; static and motionless.
In the misty horizon of its hazel pupils,
a floret of youth now scintillates bright.
The writer is a student of English literature and linguistics at Air University
Published in Daily Times, August 28th 2018.