It is just another mid-day,
Maybe lunchtime now for some,
I see a hustle in the cafe
People queueing as they come.
Some days I’m in there too,
Solitary amid the din,
Seeking familiarity
Yet somewhat afraid to be seen.
But on other days as this
I sit by my window-side
Work unfinished on my desk,
Mind out on its own joyride.
The clock ticks away to one,
I am quite famished by now
But a stubborn craving rules
And I want it anyhow.
So after prolonged war
Between duty and a whim,
I merge into a sea of heads
On food street filled to the brim.
It’s a crowd of many me’s
Yet one clueless of the next,
Trapped in uncoalesced bubbles
Lips pursed, eyes distant and vexed.
(To be continued)
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