• Rahul Mahesh



The door is left ajar,

Clothes lie awry on my chair.

The smell of wet soil wafts through the room,

The distant blares of some angry car.

The sparrows are back in my window,

The lilies bloom in my neighbour's yard.

Wet clothes lay upon some clotheslines,

Different hues and different sizes.

My desk littered with pencil shavings,

Pens left dry of ink and empty bottles.

A casket of nothings lay open beside me,

While my hand caresses these things.

I lay my hand upon a gentle forehead,

I feel the wrinkles upon my skin.

Time has gone since I last held me,

Close to myself to know who I am.

Seldom has moments silent like these,

Been left in comfortable silences.

There were days my mind was too loud,

To comprehend little things like these.

The bell chimes of lunch hour,

Distant factory workers assemble to head home.

A babble I hear of people regaling,

Of the day that went by and some more.

I know not why I think of these things,

No foreboding thoughts cloud my mind.

These little things called life I see,

What simple pleasures I find in mine.


Featured Image: Pinterest

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