Saturday, December 23, 2006

A middleclass wnter morning!


Alarm ringing by my bedside,
The book lying half open on my pillow;
I curled up inside my quilt,
Sinking in the cosy comfort of memories;
The smog slightly seeping in through the space,
Where the doors keep stooping to kiss the floor.
The hint of the dying night colouring the birth of the day;
The stars on the bluish sky,
Still visible through my curtain less windows;


The whole body shivering,
When my toes touch the cold floor,
The cold water numbing my face and tongue...
Numbing my body;


Till I go back to the kitchen,
And with the numbness,
Ignite the fire and get myself a cup of tea,
And Sipping it with a numb mind,
Planing, organising, manipulating,
The day and the deadlines...


The lazy bath,
In the cold cold bathroom,
Trying to deny the love and care,
Evoked by the chills,
Fight back the warmth of the tears;
And let the breaking dawn fill,
All the hollow spaces around and inside;


The voids covered with,
Bread, vegetables and unwashed utensils,
The torn kurta that needs mending,
The bus stop where every day,
The crowd seems to increase;


The people I think,
Exists and are a part of my life,
The endless clatter of tongues,
Banging inside my head...


The cold water dripping from my hair,
On the shirt pierces through these prisms;
And here I am shivering in the cold room,
Pulling on a pullover,
And heading to the Kitchen,
To the unmade beds,
To the things scattered everywhere in the room,
Picking up, ignoring.


The cold floor numbing the feet,
Giving them the energy,
To put the unread book in the bag,
And move out to embrace the day...
And wait for the numb numb nght...

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

I didn't want this to end.
Daily rituals but loved the way u discribed.

Stay Beautiful...!!

Anonymous said...

somehow, i've always felt this writer as kira, my favourite woman...i just hope she doesn't suffer a leo or doesnt claim a andrei...

her anonymous

sophie said...

All the touches of numbness and
cold -
despite all of the these -
there is a warm flicker -
flowing through the lonely
observant morning of love waiting
to ignite....

i adored...

"the hint of dying night colouring
the birth of the day"

i FEEL this line.

Mayfly.

Sun-kissed nights,  run wild and sure mornings, shrouded in grey walk slow,  noons burn high, and so do the hearts. like dawns I linger, lik...