Us in these Days

The mask is

gradually slipping

from sainthood,

a shadow slowly moving

over wisdom

We are not

the people I thought

we were;

the days are not

the ones I thought

they would be

Hours are almost full,

fine waves of artistry

impregnate seconds of doubt

which empty itself

to give way to longing

© Sanchita C Text and Sketch

simplicity

Mouths moving

sounds originating

from those lips

hit my ear drums

the setting:

a chic restaurant,

appears out of focus –

like the background

of a picture

taken with a telephoto lens

then a realisation

hits from within:

everything is blurred

because I am an outsider –

I don’t belong,

I am too simple

for this atmosphere

I look at the glass of wine;

my mind before long

took me away

from the room but

soon again brought me back

- repeating it a few times

conversations were carrying on

eyes pointedly

asked for my opinion

softly I said some thing

tried to be frank

and to speak my mind

then I looked at the exit:

time to leave

and savour

my little accomplishment

of survival