The agape elderly couples of Margao

All the children are long gone
Having built their lives on distant shores
The elderly couple has stayed back staring,
Into their own folklore.

The broken faucet remains broken,
The hanging holder has no bulb.
The fringes of the gate has rusted
It is all turning to mud.

Several times they have spoken
For how much would this sell,
“After us, it is all theirs”
For the dead have claims to none.

Kith and kin die often 
In this ripened age,
They have even chosen their coffin
A fit for D’costa parade.

They say - Geriatric existence is delusion.
A swing between nonsense and intense
In the end it is all pretense
A sepia, monotone, monochrome dream sequence.