Hands stretched out
to snooze the alarm ,
with a fitted pout
the day welcomes lukewarm.
Knocking at the bathroom door ,
shouting to make it quick
the queue stands as boats in moor
shaking the legs in an urgent prick.
To sleep off the incomplete dream ,
the bus seat is conferred as a bed ,
commuted to the office in teem
as cattle to the slaughter shed .
With a smiling mask ,
giving the good and the bad the same ear ,
around the cubicles moving brisk ,
without a wink , to the target all gear.
Looking at the juicy sliced white melon ,
the slender creeping and dancing lightening ,
the vagrant wind dries all ,
only hope and aspirations remain
like the salt crystals after the sweat.
Fighting for the pillow
as blind kitten for mother’s milk ,
lying with a dribbling mouth
its time again for the hands to stretch out.
