Every morning the same routine
The same conflicts
And the running
Like a rat
Up and down the stairs
Running out
Coming back
Losing, not finding, forgetting
And eventually
She is gone
In a cloud of smoke
Missing the bus
And her life
Every morning the same routine
The same conflicts
And the running
Like a rat
Up and down the stairs
Running out
Coming back
Losing, not finding, forgetting
And eventually
She is gone
In a cloud of smoke
Missing the bus
And her life
The poets secret style: Have something to say, and say it as clearly as you can
ShabadPrahar
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