Ah, I’m Old

It’s strange how with the setting sun,
When the skies turn pink, to purple, and red,
The birds all chirping, sparrows and eagles alike,
Make way for their homes, a day well spent.
Only if I could fly, only if I could fly,
I would fly up and ask them,
‘How are you different from each other?’
When you both have wings, and you both can fly,
Are you different ’cause you’re small in size?
The sparrow would laugh, and stare at me,
Don’t talk about differences, it would say,
At least we birds are different,
All you humans, all are the same,
And yet an eagle never bombarded a sparrow’s nest,
In the skies, everyone is free,
Our freedom didn’t come with a price,
And we don’t bend in servile notions,
Else we would be destined to fail like you.
Seventy name days you have seen,
Yet what good did you achieve?
You cry in happiness, “Ah, I’m old,”
And people come and serve you,
Without any rhyme or reason,
Showing how much they all love you,
But were you to die on the morrow,
Do you think deep in their hearts, they’d mourn for you?
Or would they dress up in white, shedding fake tears,
All the while thankful that you’re gone,
No one to remind them how old looks like,
They are green, and young at heart,
You, are old, withered and tattered.
I replied, “Ah, I’m old”,
As I woke up from my dream.

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