Bent but not Broken

Old, battered and bruised by nature, bent but not broken.

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From across the room
I saw him rising slowly,
Knees bent.
I hurried to help.
He looked up,
Smiled and said,
Son,
I can still carry my own.

Battered and bruised,
Scorching sun of summer,
Harsh cold of brutal winters
Have taken their toll.
Withered skin and gnarled bones,
Lumbering walk.
But that twinkle in the eyes
Sends out a message
Loud and clear,
Bent but not broken.
Like a phoenix
Rising from its ashes,
Sun peeping out
From behind the rain clouds,
The old man throws a challenge.
Nature will do its work,
And I will do mine.

Author: pranabaxom

Poetry is my passion. I am not a methodical writer. I have no set topics to write about. What I feel, perceive, think about, I will like to share in this blog. I open my mind to the world. Like the weather, sometimes my poems are cloudy, sometimes stormy. I always like to see sunshine streaming through the leaves of trees, so I hope I can share some of those sunshine with my readers.

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