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GROWING OLD....
Sitting at the Noisy end of the
cafe,
Head bent and newspaper in
front of him,
In the miserable banality of
old age,
An old man thinks how he
had grown old


His face is no longer fair
to see,
A tiny wrinkles here and
there,
Little by little his lives
grows old ,
He knows he aged a lot,he
sees it,he feels it,

He remembers impulses bridled,
the joy he sacrificed,
Every chance he lost now mocks
his sensless caution,
His youth ,strength ,looks once
he had ,
are all droop in the Autumn
together.

Thinking of it makes him feel
dizzy,
he falls asleep there,resting his head on the cafe table.


Dear readers,thank u for reading my poem.....I hope you enjoyed it.