Time does not end
the year
ends, the calendar
changes
shape size and colour
my new day
begins with old habits.
I have no
time to measure
loss or gain
in arrogant enterprises
I do not
want to suffer a morose temper
in deals and
dealings of life
my
neighbouring Uncle now rides
a scooty the
bike is gone
perhaps sold
to younger bones;
the crowd increases
in the medicine store
I am bored
stiff my sweaty mask
sticks to my
patience in the queue.
At noon I am in my kitty party
habit or
hobby I don't know
my
irritating nerves need escape
I throw
cards at will celebrating
my agitation
in losing money.
Evening I
have my yoga class
everything
is fixed preset
and my night
world grow on me
like
Mahendragiri tearing Visuvious.
But the morning
will come
alarm will
break my drugged sleep
I will wish
the sun Good morning
his winks will
wake me up
to the
tunnel again.
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