Standing in the balcony, I imagine you beside
With feelings in my heart that I never can recite.
Holding your hand seems a step too bold,
Or maybe with time, I've grown too old.
At the age of sixty six, I'm a father of two,
Who think I'm a man only capable of eating stew.
After losing their mother, I never thought my wounds would heal.
But the time that it took has left me with no zeal.
Your eyes say that the feeling is mutual,
But that alone isn't enough for us to proceed towards the ritual.
They say love knows no age,
But mine is getting too fond of the cage.
Maybe it's the fear of getting hurt again
That's stopping me from stepping into the beautiful rain.
Or maybe I'm afraid of upsetting the society.
That'd judge me every moment, filling me with anxiety.
I wish to you, one day, I could say
The lines that I practice in front of mirror every day.
Then the wrinkles on my face remind me,
I'm too old to enjoy all the blind glee.
As I move closer to my death bed,
I believe somethings are better left unsaid.