Twilight Years Poem by Anita Sehgal
Twilight Years
It is the evening of his life.
He sits on an isolated bench
And stares with empty eyes at the barren park.
Where no flowers bloom
No children play.
The gaunt branches of the trees
reach out as blank eyes of the dead.
A lonely sliver of a moon hangs low in the sky.
Slowly the darkness settles in …
The stirrings in his heart move out to connect
but come back desolate and forlorn.
Long gone his soulmate.
None awaits him at home..
How long, how long
before it comes..?
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A moving picture of the desolate evening of life, so full of pathos! !
'The stirrings in his heart move out to connect but come back desolate and forlorn', how poignant and the pathos is aptly summed up in last two lines; '....how long, before it comes' Very touching. Incidently I may mention that I had taken your inward looking poem 'Delusion Ensnares' and more contemporaneous Once as my favourites.
A universal experience. Thus, this poem touches the heart of many who can readily identify with its powerful message. Very touching. Great images. Well penned.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/17/2024 8:33:00 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Absolutely beautiful imagery Anita, thanks