Behold, ye, the lone

Behold, ye, the lone oldman looking at the gate,
His son, longing for long for a tea and chat;
The day he tied his wedding knot is the last
To see his son, since then five years past.

Alone, confined himself to a little room he owns,
Spends tiresomely the days till Death summons;
An orphan to the world, though has he a son,
Moans his fate that destines him to have none.

Caring words he never heard, nor the caressing touch
He ever felt, neither joy nor hope of any such;
Yet with eyes full, full of dreams lives he,
Yet 'he is my son', says he, whatever the case be.

It is sweet for him to chew and cherish memories past
In a world of none to care, to the day life last.