The retired professor
struggling on his knees
with his pleas towards heaven-
his only lamp of hope.
Beside him on the couch
“his ailing half”,
the part of his breath,
tossing with a painful heart,
tormented with the everhaunting memory of
her burden-her young widowed daughter
blessed with two poor little children in far off land,
vulnerable at the perilous world.
In the big lovely but lonely
and strangely tranquil home
the ideal elderly couple
have only each other being their company.
The day none came to her succor, but only he.
Whether to ring to the doctor
or look at the heaven
or to go to a druggist store?
The sons settled far away,
leaving them alone.
Time moves on snail-slow
between his indecisive struggle
between his wobbly thoughts and steps.
Now he gets up on his knees from beside her couch,
wears his slippers,
half unbuttoned shirt,
puts on his old goggles,
walks upto the gate, stops,
turns back to her couch
as something pulled him strongly.
Reluctant of going,
of staying and being helpless,
this disheartened soul sits beside her couch on which
her heart struggles to live for their
two little grand children.
The couple here with their hearts
at their widowed daughter,
beseeching heaven to extend
their life for her sake.