Visiting Hours (Poem-12)

I lay back in my chair

Watching the seconds tick by,

Don't know how much longer I'll wait

But I'll do it without a sigh.

The tea is already cold

The careman's stopped asking 'why';

My schedule has known no chores

I just plan on getting by.

I think of all the different things

I could undertake to pass time,

But I know now, there's no point in them

Money now earnt is nought but futile.

It wasn't always quite like this

Life had much more smiles,

Mostly mine, but some my son's

It's true! Trust this rhyme.

We'd talk each day, and all day long

He'd share his days with me and Mom

But as time ran on, we edged away

Buried in our own days, all day long.

Things escalated as the world moved on

A lot less smiles, each with their share of wrongs

Playing and singin' songs are mere memories,

Ones I find hard to recall.

One fine day, we ended up on a plane

Young sonny's wife said he'd booked a place

"Mom and Dad's Weekend Getaway"

T'was 16 years ago, haven't seen his face.

There was no plane back to my son's home

There was no "getaway" for us in Rome;

There was no point in regretting our tones

There is nought but a yearning telephone.

Each day brought hope with the visiting hours

Each night asserted the contrary

Each year passed, along with his Mom

But the hope of the next keeps me merry.

So now, I lay back in my chair

Watching the seconds tick by,

Don't know how much longer I'll wait

But I'll do it without a sigh.

-Armaan Kothare