An electric Kettle for espresso in the morning,
Some paper plates and plastic fork for Lone dining.
My soup bowl and coffee mug stand alone in the crockery collection,
Bed sheets stained with ashes smudge away the brand’s perfection.
Unkept baggages clinging on to each other for life…
Newspapers dropping dead at the end of every evening in a pile.
Insect repellent sprays have replaced the exotic fragrance in the air,
That once upon a time was an essential affair.
Locked away are the wishlists –
Of carefree Entertainment and luxurious comforts of home,
Here I rest my head on a cheap foam pillow
And struggle for some sleep,
Adjusting my body to the too thin to be called mattress alone.
Kilometers away from my soft bed,
Here I am figuring out the possibilities
Of packet food and takeaway leftovers,
Staring blank at the heap of unwashed clothes
I am beginning to question my desire to remain sober any longer.
Love this! Short, exciting, interesting and so impromptu life!
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Ah the hostel days, is what I could infer from your poem. Those days that we had wished to have never faced but later on somewhere down the memory lane brings happy memories of us winning over the difficulties that came along back then. Here, I’m reminiscing the good old days. 🙂
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I hope the same happens to me. 😀😀😀😀
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Keep your fingers crossed! 😊😊😋
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Yes, such are the hazards of living in a place far from home.
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You are right.
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It’s beautiful!😊
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Thank you😇
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Lovely and meaningful post
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Thank you so much! I am glad you liked it. ❤
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