What is the song without words that the singers hum
when their voices fail, as does their eardrum?

When old age is still young, what are those moments called
when the legs refuse to chase what causes the young to fault?

When the son’s shoes size your feet, his shirts your chest,
how does it feel when your son asks you to retire and rest,

or people begin addressing you as father of so and so,
and talk of your children with details you hardly know?

When your good eye expands the crescent moon to a white blot,
how does it feel when memories are blurry as are your thoughts,

and when your body-parts need tune-ups, break down randomly,
or at festivals, you begin to officiate as the oldest in the family?

How are you convinced that the gray in your hair is permanent?
When does the words “Grandpa” stop giving you astonishment?

Too early to call quits, and yet too late to learn new tricks,
how do you escape from “I could have, I didn’t” guilt trips?

When the past stretches like foggy valleys, you have flowed through,
what do you see as your legacy? What ocean do we all rivers go into?

Author : Vivek Sharma

Indian Literature | Indian Review Author | Vivek Sharma‘s first book of verse The Saga of a Crumpled Piece of Paper (Writers Workshop, Calcutta, 2009) was shortlisted for Muse India Young Writer Award 2011. His work in English appears in Atlanta Review, Bateau, Poetry, The Cortland Review, Muse India, Reading Hour among others while his Hindi articles and verses appear in Divya Himachal (Hindi newspaper, India), Himachal Mitra and Argala. Vivek grew up in Himachal Pradesh (Himalayas, India), and moved to the United States in 2001. Vivek is a Pushcart nominated poet, is published as a scientist and he lives and teaches in Chicago.