Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Time Fighter

Be at the right place at the right time
I was told.

So I rushed
trying hard never to be late.

I tried so hard, at times

I came in little too early.

Beating the clock
is never so easy
when you are the first hand
trying to be the second.

I can be the sunflower
that was harvested
before the bloom.
I can be the one
that wilted
before the harvest.

The choice got to be mine.

The river doesn’t know
where it is
at the right place
or at the right time.
But flow it must
with all its zest.


Winter chimed early in the night.
The candle shivered, scared of the dark.

Its terrorized shadow wheezed
and waltzed in shortened steps.

Melting wax, now hot
overflowed, now cold
clung to the rusty old cot
in gasps of disbelief.

The wick, bent against time in shame
looked at the shallow depth of wax beneath
and sputtered in a reverie of helplessness.

A hand, a whiff, a blow…

The night claimed its prize.
The smoke, though, pervaded
with pride.

Outside, the first dew drop
streamed down the blade of grass
and smiled.