Two old hands
Two old hands grabbing the wrist
Of the time to stay slow,
Without the death’s thirst
It lets life go.
The hands covered with the wrinkles
Exhibiting nothing but wise.
Their pale skin turning to shackles
And their whispers creating no more noise.
That dying bitterness of words
To fall deep in silence, it lands.
Breaking the cage of life for new birds
They were looking to their old hands.
When the poison of life will hit
The brined heart of miseries,
When the shroud is going to fit
To the body of mysteries,
The hands of two lovers
Grabbing softly each other’s hand,
Telling their honesty what that covers;
Farewell to life and journey to the new land.
Written by Waqar Farooq
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