At the ageing desk

Like the supple limbs of a kid,

My fingers wobble weakly at the ageing desk.

But my"listen to me!"attitude is fairly firm.

When I fold my hands before God

He sees a revised version of my childhood.

Fears of tender limbs are linkage markers

Of  learning to walk and walking to relearn.

Memory is not only the chivalry of childhood,

But also the cringing cowardice of ageing.

What would anyone gain from sucking

The essence of memory,from an Alzeimer mind,

Or rattling the nerves of a Parkinson pet?

'Home alone'days are the hallmark of ageing.

All this becomes a bad dream if the ageing desk

Has enough files to deal with and dispose

And load fresh files,to the hard disk of the mind.

P.Chandrasekaran