Senile Sentimentality Poem by Sagnik Das

I am the old dog, lean lean and frail,
Driven away by his master –
One harsh wintry eve; amid
the lashing wrath of snow and hail …..

Down the dusty pavement ;
By some darkling road forlorn;
In dreary hush of silence,
I wander aimless dusk to morn.

My humblest abode, this, or –
The ideal payback perhaps, for
the service age-old, spanning night and day:
Choose to call it whatever you may;
Good refuge yet has served …..
Far beyond this
‘genteel’ world of mortal disloyalty.

More like a broken man,
wretched in body, and –
Impaired in soul;
A mere ghost, this present ‘I’
as though, of my former self worthwhile;
Am now but left to sigh and even laugh
at times, thinking
of my very existence ……

A laugh so sarcastic!
For fraught in eternal pangs
it is, of complaints useless, laments vain –
Which repressed years through thralldom have acquired,
Buried deep, unknown to all,
In morbid realms of heart.

‘Tis when they come to mind –
Those blooming heydays of life’s faded Spring:
Sweet moments tranquil, which the by-gone past,
Vouchsafed much once in ample bounty
For me to now recall –
These present days of idle loneliness.....

One way thus, I feel thankful at times:
After all, there’s something worth at least,
Wherewith I can stagger vainly forth,
Down the crimson lane of fleeting dusk ……

Even if mere memories - lost they be,
Wrinkled years have somewhere solace seeked.....