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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