Old Puppets

We sit in the wings quietly
Without a murmur or a demur
Patiently we wait our chance
To come out of hibernation
That has been thrust upon us
With no tacit agreement on our parts!

Our filial ties hang by a thread
In your not so caring hands
Being the master puppeteer
You cannot set us free either
As the fluid in your veins
Deters you from doing so

Ever so often you magnanimously
Let us come up for air and a display
The early days and years of nurturing
Do not hold a candle to your new ties
Which mesmerize binding you tightly
Now your whole world is tinted!

Your vision is a borrowed one
Your companion’s eyes see for two
Your tolerance is laced with ridicule
As we have outlived our usefulness
We are just an old diehard habit
Relegated to the back burner of your life

We have to be thankful for such crumbs
As this is how you feel today
You draw the curtain quickly
The puppets have to disappear quickly
We may be old but still have thick blood
And we feel bewildered and bruised

Cherish us and love us today
Our time is running out and all we ask for
Is a pinch of love and affection
Sprinkled over a bowl of precious time
Seasoned with wry humor and gaiety
Letting past hurts be forgiven n forgotten

Life is dynamic and soon we too will be history
And no manner of wakes and memorials will bring us back
No therapies would be needed as there will be no guilt
Is that a lot to ask, Is that selfish?
Is that possible?
We query in anguish!

“Parentage is a very important profession; but no test of fitness for it is ever imposed in the interest of the children.”
-Bernard Shaw
Everybody’s Political What’s What

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