Glued to this screen, white and black
my eyes stuck on lofty ideas to crack
Chewing the pencil, and whirling my curls
nowhere to look, nothing to see
me, this dusty room & my clumsy work.
It was a warm day until the wind moved in,
the lights went out, the bells clinked
but no sign of him, still hesitant to pour in.
I swayed forward near the window
the only distance I could move
without much pain, without my crutches.
I could spend hours waiting for him,
with a cup of chai & bis-coots in hand
because he promised to come
with happiness and not sorrow this time.Because he had tested me enough
and I stand, well... sit, strong and tough.
My pen's been my pillow
weirdly soaking up my pain
it's no different this time.But I want the rain to come down slow,
see me smile and ask me how?Ah.. and then starts the dribbles and ripples
and with it my nostalgic scribbles...
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