The happiness of a parent is to see their kids
grow
The reward for this happiness is watch them
through
Life’s ups and downs
As maturity conspires with capital to
separate
What would warm the parents’ old age?
It dawns on them that they are all alone.
The phone rings, it’s the tomato seller
Asking whether the last delivery is depleted
The door bangs, it’s the next-door neighbor
Enquiring whether the electricity man
Has read the meter
The car screeches to a halt, it’s the loans
officer
From a local bank, trying to sell the employer’s
Money for interest.
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But the old parents’ thoughts are with their
progeny
The progeny who have hibernated for two years
The progeny who, with abandon, left parents all
alone
The progeny who, intoxicated with city life,
forgot the parents’ tears.
Old age resuscitates tender memories
The worries, efforts, joys and disappointments
The old guys revisit them once again
But the nostalgia and the nausea
Of the warmth and the closeness
That children must needs give the old guys
Bear little fruit.
Who would have known, forty five years ago
That the dream of raising a family
Would end up leaving them bereft
Not that the kids are as dead as a dodo
Their absence ignites more worry
The vacuum they left
Slowly
Killing
The old fellows
For once one is gone
The other will surely follow
The agony of old age and memories!