I try to look at the sunset through the window, on my wheelchair my tiny legs strive,
For its 2060, and I have lived the most of my life.
The orange rays of the setting sun fall upon my wrinkled eyes,
To Cherish what remains, is what this old man tries.
My grandchild, whose name this rusty mind can’t recall
Runs towards me with a brown shawl.
He sits on my lap with an innocent smile,
His tiny fingers try to play with mine.
The young chap wishes for a good night story,
But this old man remembers nothing, for he has achieved no glory.
All he remembers is how much he misses his long-gone wife,
And how he would love to relive his years-long life.
There comes a moment of spark,
He tries to relive that year of the dark.
40 years it has been since then,
But he recalls each moment again.
He looks down at his own blood with a sigh
He asks him to be prepared for a ride, he pulls him anigh.
He talks about a time when no one was left out
Be it the powerful countries, be it the celebrities with clout.
People falling left and right, the death count had no limit,
Graveyards were full of bodies; humans were lost of spirit.
Locked inside their self-built cage,
Mankind and zoo animals were on the same page.
Loss of money, freedom and a lot many lives
The almighty didn’t respond to our cries.
Accepting that we deserved what we got,
The battle against Corona was fought.
The old man stopped all of a sudden,
Swallowing the memories that he considered a burden.
The curious toddler stared at his face
But his face was blank, his veins had no pace.
The little child’s eyes widened,
For the old man’s words were blinding.
The sun had flickered its last ray of light,
The old man’s eyes had always been strong, yet they were weak that night.
Why are you crying grandpa? He asked.
The old man could hear nothing but his own voice.