Did he mourn the demise of his old mother
who‘d walked into the sunset forever?
Did he confront the flashbacks of unforgettable moments
which billowed from the smoky ashes?
Was he dying for the golden moments
he had once lived because of her warmth?
Was he suddenly finding himself forlorn
in a strange generation
which derives food from the internet and the cellphones?

Fettered in questions of life and death
he thus, was never seen again.
What they saw was a thick pile of ashes.
Did he merge in the remains of his mother
with only mortal evidences left behind, like
a charred wristwatch,
a molten feature phone, and
an end from the scorched pants?

(It’s an updated poem from the previous version published on my personal blog.)