​My grandpa’s an octogenarian now
His feet dawdle, his hands tremble

His vision is blurred, his speech is slurred

He hides his watch and forgets his torch

The once know it all now struggles for recall
‘ Evils of old age’, I hear. Evil, really? 

As a toddler I was so loved, (still am)

I fell as I walked, made no sense when I talked

My hands all dirty, my feet all jerky

I hid all my toys, screeched at the top of my voice
‘Beauty of childhood,’ they say, and I agree

Why? 
Why’s old age evil and childhood the best? 

Those hands that made me, don’t they deserve respect? 
Grandpa spills food and it’s a mess to clean

I used to do the same, but cute it must’ve been
I cried for attention, and surely, I got tons

Now grandpa does the same, and he has none
He repeats himself helplessly, though no one really cares

My senseless blabber was attended to, like I had a story to share
And after he’s been told off, I catch him lost in deep thought at times, 

Helplessly looking out the window, I wonder if they’re same as mine
Grandpa spoke so passionately, of the happiness of holding our tiny little fingers

It is heart wrenching, you know, not being there to help with his quiver
The man who gave us his all, now just longs for reciprocation

While we’re busy fighting his age like it’s a monster with aggression
His brain is failing him and he turns towards his beloved  family
His ‘exasperated’ family instead, finds his ageing ‘ugly’
This was our chance, and we let it slip, for our ego is more important

Than to give back to them what they gave us- love, care, attention
Nature’s big plan now stands flawed, reduced down to a petty game
I’ve failed you grandpa, you know that too, and yet, you love me the same…

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