It
has been a while since I had gone to morning prayers. By the general character
of a morning, added with the demography of the church, the prayer meetings are
usually filled with the elderly.
As
slumber was partnered with me yet, I stumbled in the pews with a certain
nonchalant stupor. An
old man was seen from the corner of my eyes. He was squinting to see the tiny
letters on his Bible. He had a walking cane by his side. His white hair was
combed nicely even at such an early hour.
How
I wished to grow old like him.
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