The poem is based on an 87-year-old CoVID-19 patient who wished to see the last sunset of Wuhan.

An 87-year-old man
with ample virtue
and warmth;
Spending his life
In a far-flung city of
China, to wit, Wuhan.

Now, known as,
dreary city of China,
So vast a fiasco,
the coronavirus bout
pruned the wings of
hope.

One rugged riot and with
shock of it,
With guarding face masks,
they coated their faces,
They, walking down
the sick lanes of City
Wuhan,

Nagging around nature,
Reckoning around tragedy
Remarking all bodies perishing;
For works, all halted
All tales more sweetly
got scorched.

The face of nature
With no more mercy,
All withered alike, but
a grim tone lies in the
same rosy muse,

Here the same
local resident old man
got infected;
Family bothering,
Relatives worrying,
Friends moving
toward,

However, the virus
nuzzled him barely
from some incognito
spot ;

Yet the uncertainty buckled
them all;
The elderly man hospitalized
for almost a month,
Thereon his eyes with
a gleaming glow, and
salty tears when began to
flow,

He sighed and yearned
to regard his last wish
duly;
Reflected recent jewels
and endorsed the day
by beholding the most
gratifying sensation
of the Last sunset in the
city Wuhan,

And outside the
hospital, the colors
of riping
mellowed his each
part that then began
to live again on the
fresh hope.