This is an attempt to pen down thoughts from the heart of an old lady, waiting for the doors to eternity to open and take her in her arms. Death, so definite yet so unsure...
Freckles on my forhead, indicate a thought
When I try to pen them down, am I at a loss of words?
I want to put down some words
Alas! Writing is creating a mirage.
Is it the bout of medicine inside me
Or is it the last hours of the this enigma
My hair keeps falling now and then
I visit the doctor now oh! so often
The doors to eternity wait to be opened
Someone behind them ready to move
A few days, a few months, wonder whats remaining
In this balance sheet of life
I await with deathly silence
To be welcomed unto His world
This moment of indecisiveness
Oh so tempting, Oh so scary!
Will I write all my thoughts
Before the final moment comes
Ah! this medicine makes we weak
Ah! this medicine kills my thought...