Sitting by the funeral pyre reminiscing death,
Seven decades of existence,
Yet longing,
For another year of humane breath.
His legs are far too frail now, so he-
Vests on his jagged memory,
As he delves into the past. Into-
The life of a young man,
Who was now at his feeble last.
The curtains rise,
And all of five,
In comes a nimble child.
Voices raised a notch too high, tears-
flood.
And into his mother’s refuge,
He would run and hide.
Then at twelve, a tender teen. Shipped-
To a school that was far too mean.
But he bore it all, If only-
to prove that he was of his father’s breed.
At fifteen, hand in heart, enter a blossoming child, his eyes desperate-
In search for his forever loving wife.
At twenty, an ambitious young man,
In whose shoulders a heartbreak despicably hangs.
To him, life felt an unfair tragedy,
But at twenty five, he was glad he survived.
For he found the woman,
He thought was the love of his life.
Until tragedy befell again at twenty-seven, as the apple of his eyes,
Left to be someone else’s wife.
Oh, never had he delved so deep into the possibility of a suicide,
But that’s alright.
Because at thirty, he found the job of his dreams,
He realised, money was really all anyone ever needs.
But at 33,
He discovered peace. For his heart struck a chime,
And for a blonde, who made his world feel alive.
Maybe love was worth more than money, he realised.
Then at thirty five, in came his lad,
And for the next two decades, he watched a caring father grow. A ferocious lover fade.
He wondered, how did life get so sad?
But at fifty three, his terry old lad,
got into university,
And never had he felt such pride.
Yet at 55, his better half died.
And from then on, death was all he wished for every night.
But just then, at sixty,
He found a pen,
And for the next decade,
Tales of passion and pain he bled.
Yet when upon him, finally dawned the spotlights,
All he yearned for,
Was a little more time.
But alas, it was too late.
And just then,
His breath turns shallow, his hands cold,
He knew it was death at the door.
As the curtains start to fall,
Lying lifeless, on the cold hard floor,
He managed a dim smile, knowing-
What of him, his obituary would call,
“The man who had finally seen it all.”
And he didn’t fight death no more.
– Ish.