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by Prakriti BandhanWheels
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Wheels are turning,

Wheels of time,

Wheels that belong,

To this chair of mine

Rims have moved,


As I hit rewind,

Taking my son to school,

And sharing his pride.

Have I grown or has time?

I don't even recognize,


This man who calls himself,

A son of mine,

Maybe if I could see him,

I wouldn't blame the divine,


Why don't I feel old?

Why don't I feel blind?

Why don't I feel like I can't

Walk on these legs of mine?


Am I denying?

Or am I just tired?

Feeling like I don't need to retire,

I am young in age,

Young in mind,

Death is afraid of me,

And so is time

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