His Waiting Lounge Poem by Padmanabhan Ananth

He remembers vividly, his retirement speech
One streamer broke loose by pedestal fan's breeze
And flew down on his face, as if to caress
For all that he did at work and career, such praise

He reminisces the speeches - some true, some sham
The silver memento still wrapped in cellophane
Squats in a corner of his almirah - hardly noticed
O'er score-n-half years ago - so long in past!

He sees a smiling friend's image often
In colour or black-n-white in newspaper's page ten
A bereaving family's message or anniversary note
Touches his heart, reminding: 'alas, one friend less! '

He looks forward to grand-kids' storm-in weekend
His true window to the social world
Their school tales told in wonderment
Their eyes-n-hands telling more than words

His health falls, fails once too often
But his spirit oak-wood strong
Clinic visits seem like needless chore
Doctor's advice - as if science has a cure!

Grandson chirps of vacation flight to Venice
'Grandpa, when are flying on a holiday? '
He smiles, 'I'm ready at this waiting lounge,
Mine will sure take off but will never land! '