I sat there on the iron bench Amidst the large concrete pots Overflowing with seasonal flowers The evening sun shone On my tired face; for a moment I looked up from my phone Pausing the search for a cab And the frantic need to be home
All around me, I could see Hunched shoulders, quick footfall Towards the exit gate. And what for? To run away from the fatigue Of a hectic day at work Or to rush into another con call With an unending to-do list
I sat there rooted in silence Aware of the breathing Of the weary and their worry I wondered where all this leads; Why we never stopped to see The radiant blooms of Spring – Wilting sooner than ever In the heat of our distress
Sublime requests Of my creative mind Overturned by demands Of a cerebral strife. Shackled to cubicles, Paints and brushes Paper and ink Yarn and hooks Painfully exchanged For butter and bread. Amusing musings Garrulous silence Thoughts playing Hide and seek in My restive mind Wanting to break free Of the daily grind. Unfinished pages now Brittle and yellow Mocking blank canvas Waiting for a splatter Of pictures and words. My mind is where I left the crochet hook An unfinished work I can’t wait to unravel Start the lace afresh As new patterns emerge.