Walking through narrow sidewalks
Day after day, it feels the same,
Intuiting the same whispers,
The side-ward glances,
The silent cries of pain,
Despite no two people being ever the same.
Only for a fleeting moment I ask,
Could this monotony be taken to task?
Rhetorical as it may seem,
Mechanically my feet still continue on.
The throng I wade through
Seem to swallow me up whole,
But I wonder,
Is it I who swallows them all?
Consumed by this thought,
I falter, I sway, still in haze
I look at the boxes of roofs and walls,
Shabbily and abidingly edging the sidewalks,
A peek through their embedded windows,
And they seem like portraits in motion,
With words and feelings forever unspoken,
I feel the air hanging thick in silence.
Resignedly, I push through the void of space,
As the dusk gulps down the day,
The scanty trees shift hue,
I up my pace,
Heading towards my familiar place,
I want to break free from the chaos,
I look up at the sky, still slightly cracked,
As my lungs yield in protest.
That’s when I realise,
The familiarity I search for, is in a face.