Poem : Old Age by me (Andik)
At the edge of dusk, wrinkles etch on the face
Veins are drawn on the hands
Along with thousands of memories
Concealing a thousand sacrifices
In the old cottage, her heart cries out
Searching for her children in the city
While tears do not lie
Behind a facade of forced smiles
A mother remains a mother
Thirsting for the return of all
In the days of old age
Not her final days
In a quiet garden, on a wooden bench
Love stories are etched among the leaves
Children play, their cheerful voices
Awakening the spirit, though the body is frail
Let memories flow gently
Like a river that never ceases
Old age is a new chapter
Where we celebrate a sacred life
About the Creator
Andik
A passionate writer, dedicated to creating immersive and engaging stories
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