Old Edward, gazed at me, askance
And then at, fading breaths, he smoked
In somber air, I saw, them dance
The phantoms, life’s labors, invoked!
Was it a haze, or a, mirror of time
Of cynical man’s, crestfallen dreams
Life’s enigma, is a, sin sublime
And faith, a fear, which age redeems!
Then he coughed, with veiny throat
And spat sputum, mingled, in gore
As though, baptized each, anecdote
Of life, with sin’s, sore metaphor!
And then, he weaned away, his breath
From the alibi, of a, sweet pretense
And swallowed down, the fear, of death
Whilst, Smoking Sin, Of Senescence!
© 2019 Vikas Chandra