This seemed like a fine afternoon to scribble down something.
After flipping through a few pages, I found that spot.
The clock kept ticking at a leisurely
pace…
Maybe it's going to be ‘two thirty’ for a long time now…
It was an ordinary moment really;
The day was changing colours right
under the Sun,
The air was filled with a concoction of
noises;
The mild bustling of cars on the
streets, carpenters at work,
Whistles of the pressure cooker, a
running tap,
Dogs barking at the motorcycles on the
streets,
Trees swaying with the gentle breeze,
And even the crickets were around...
I was in between my yawns and sighs,
My eyes set on the ceiling fan,
Staring & wondering if there's
something to admire about it…
The dullness of this hour had this eerie
soothing effect.
The sluggish hands of the clock barely
made a move,
Minutes to
seconds went by but time stood still.
Soon the Sun began to draw its curtains;
Its light kept fading with every move;
The clock timed the act and conveniently
so...
Perhaps it’s going to be two-thirty for
quite some time...
