From multitudinous mornings to likened evenings,
I rise to work from day to night.
And sometimes when I reflect,
into the pool of my emotions,
I see me. Alone.
No one to shed a tear with me.

Yet, I think of my chaotic mornings,
made eventful with school buses,
and lunch packs,
and glasses clinking on the breakfast table.

My afternoons – silent, quiet and lonely.
Only the sound of abscence mars the tranquility
As my eyes close for siesta,
I wait for the evning to unfold.

While the Sun then moves towards its western sky,
my day winds up too. And my,
eyes when they shut for the new dawn,
I think again.

I travel to palms,
the courtyard, the salty breezes,
the gsh of waves, the banglesellers.
that lapped my home for years on end.

Forgotten tumes play on my mind’s harp,
‘Tis then I feel, I’mm in a time warp.

Travelogue
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