He’s been running for long!
Then he was young,
He would run for miles and never pant!
He still runs,
Hefting his heavy head on his hanging shoulders,
But, these days, he halts every few metres.
His one son had died young.
Struck and shaken, he had stopped running.
They thought he was giving up the marathon.
But he had stopped only for a while.
A man of deep faith he is, they say.
Son’s bereavement had caused a little fracture in the wall.
He had halted to fix that up.
And shortly after, he resumed the race!
He’s got three more sons,
Tall, handsome, jobless, strong.
His wife looks after all four of them.
You look at the old man, and you pity him.
The vacant eyes,
The sagging cheeks,
The shrivelled body, and
The waddling gait.
But his eyes,
They’re always fixed on the sky.
They say he deserved much more.
He too thinks so, perhaps.
Otherwise, why’d he still linger on the track?
When you see him run,
You pity him all the more!
Earning each breath with much toil and strain;
His lungs are about to burst,
And pray, oh Life, now declare him a winner,
And bring an end to his marathon.
– Inspired by The Daily Post’s one-word prompt, Marathon
– Photo source: Pixabay.com