Ink Idle

Winter’s blanket in a vivacious town-

Their everyday song, an hour long

And the chatter of wheels upon rails-

My everyday muse, this life’s ruse,

 

And I grow older, as the hours I sleep,

My eyes closed and my beard grows,

A mark upon this deliquescent life

As vines grow upon my buried wife;

And I grow fonder, by the noon time wonder,

I ponder on yesterday’s shoddy meal

As I whiff this day’s feast with zeal.

 

What, after all, is life’s deal?

Do you have an answer?

 

And I grow older, as the hours I scribble,

My pen sharp over meaningless babble,

And over a sycophant’s rose water drops

His banana peel and his forsaken crops;

And I grow fonder, by his new found wonder

And upon my mirthful dream ponder

Perchance it came, but ‘twas not to hold

She dreamt ‘tis true, but I had become old.

 

She whispered by the wind-

“To be aboard a wrong train

Is truly a folly

But is that folly in vain

If it wipes out melancholy?’’

 

Hence by the night I wonder

My soliloquy’s thunder- Life does have a deal

For the fortuitous say – ‘Tis but a fair deal.

Note: A reflection on the movie, The Lunchbox.