On ma rush to the morning mass,
I listened to the hard sigh and rough cough of an old man, near ma path,
He was shivering, lying in the cold hands of dews at the grass blades,
For a moment I was helpless and ma thoughts could not help me, what to do,
But I sat near him, his attire was torn and his face is known to me,
Tears flood down his dark skinny and wrinkled look,
He looked at me lifting his head a bit, as if he was expecting someone,
I felt him like an old flower down to earth at its last moments,
Still the mass was loud and clear in the church,
If I can be a reason for his comfort atleast for a minute,
That would be ma greatest satisfaction in ma life,
And will be like thousand masses I have done,
i finally took him to the hospital and stitched his wounds,
While I inquired about him, he wept without caring the peace of surroundings,
Even without knowing the reasons of his tears, I could feel his sore heart,
The tears he hide with his craggy fingers
Made a large hole in ma heart which bleed with pain,
He is the proud father of three rich sons, who are even unaware that their father is alive,
They live their youthfulness with the sweats of their old father,
While I took his to ma home and cared his as ma grandfather,
My soul was happy to itz extreme, and why his children are not getting this peace,
While taking care of that poor old man…
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