An Ode to the Superstars of Sixty

 Old is gold,

C'mon the proverb is long back sold.

If it was true, I wouldn't be the lone bread mould. 

Discarded from the family lot,

I wash my own pot.

Left to the wind, my woundy maggots rot. 

Superstar onced they called me,

Teenagers enacted me in sweaty tees. 

Glamour and fashion,

Amounted to my ration.

Herores are God,

Was the Indian tradition. 

A line crooked in the face 

Was once noticed by the competitors race. 

Retire now,

Wrap up your show

For the next superstar is in the row.

"Senior artist have a reputation in the industry"

Is the God of all the mockery.

Forget the reputation 

I don't even have an identification

For they say out of sight is out of mind

Life takes over you in its grind. 

Sixty isn't about sunsets,

But its definitely about mindsets.

Determining what one gets. 

Sixty isn't about fame,

For long over is the game

You are a living memory in name. 

Sixty certainly isn't about thrill,

Avoid the dress with a frill,

That's what into you people drill.

But Sixty is definitely about love,

Love is the final drop to the dying dove,

As he is secluded in his tiny cove. 

Fifty Sixty Seventy,

The angel may take away at eighty.

Till then don't consider me filty,

For I was once the Superstar of Sixty!!