A Day in the Life

Just a day like every other day,
I am sad;
I utter a cry,
and woman, remember, I tell no lies.

I flick my cigarette —
ashes fall down
and I step on it with my foot.
You do the same;
where lies the difference?

I laugh
and put my arm around my friend’s back,
and drag him along
to the shop
for a cup of tea — much needed.
Your friend does the same;
puts his arm around your back,
and drags you around
to laughter and joy
amid colourful friends.
I stand alone.
But where lies the difference?
Oh, there it is;
It’s jealousy — much natural, I don’t complain.

I walk back to my friend’s home
if there is no money for the auto
to exchange thoughts; silence is overwhelming.
You do the same;
probably travel in a bus.
Where lies the difference?
It’s in the thoughts.
Mine lingers around you;
and you, do not, even think of me, I guess.

Woman, remember,
my words are all I have —
everything else is temporary,
just like life,
which flows out
like poetry out of a pen
from a poet
someday dead.
The poems only catered
to the audience
who care.

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