At four in the middle of the night for me,
And an annoyingly early beginning of the day for most
I am up counting my dreams.
And recollecting how I kept calling for mom,
And she couldn’t hear me through the walls that I am contained in.
I thought the vigil was over,
And yet I hear someone’s staff over the pebbled street.
My eyelids are dropping down over wishing I go back to where I was:
Permeable to thoughts,
Of brushing my teeth by the taps my backyard that no longer exist,
And telling someone I no longer talk to that yes hed find tiffin services in the city.
There’s a cake no one is really attentive about,
Maybe its not an important detail.
But I already know the story between us on a rocking boat,
Ready to jump at the slightest manoeuvre.
I don’t care and let us not bother one another with stupid questions like
How are you?
I used to think I was beyond exams and here I was on a late revision,
Hoping I’d write enough to not fail,
Though failure is what creeps into our minds to scare us into waking up with a start.
And thinking: thank god this was just a dream.