Other Side of the Fence

There’s no rush…

I feel the relief of days

tumbling over nights

from a dreamless slumber.

Collecting packets of milk

left by the milkman,

pacing carefully, stepping over

Moss-grown outdoor tiles

I pick up the threads of racing

thoughts; the veil of sleep

still holding on to early wakeful

moments, I light up the stove.

Milk boils over, pouring strong

muddy tea into cups

I muse, there’s no hurry….

No punching machines to thumb.

The whorls will never speak of

the mad hurry, when attendance

registers mark your presence.

Smiling young faces, their

vigour and cheer will no longer remind you

the anachronism of your existence.

Axed like a withered tree,

busy hours rendered redundant

hanker for supremacy.



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About Madhumathy R

Former Professor of English from Kochi, India. Holds doctoral degree in African literature; loves to read and write poems; has published poems in journals and would like to engage in discussions on literary themes.

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