NaPoWriMo 30 The Lost Art Of Solitude

NaPoWriMo 30

The Lost Art Of Solitude

She chases away the pigeons from the window sill
weeds out tiny plants growing in the tomato’s shade
complains about the sun being hot
and the wind chilly
but hates it equally if they are not
Shoos away
playful cats, kids and any novel ideas
The vegetables, never fresh enough for her
nor the cooking ever to her taste
She grumbles of how books take up space
and sneezes whenever her grandchild plays with
magical dust beams streaming in from the window
The rain seems to always rub her the wrong way
whether it falls or not

The television is the brainiest of all
never stopping its chatter
giving her no time to open her grumble box

She doesn’t know/like herself much
never having made time to sit and have a coffee
with herself
and to make peace with the things
she cannot change

Frightened of the ‘noise’ of solitude
she tries to drown its insistent silence
with words several decibels higher
for as she ages
all the shooing works
and she is left in peace by all
leaving her no choice
but to listen to the incessant pounding
of a strange heart

Reena Prasad


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