Ode to the Day

My alarm tune is very melodious

I changed it recently;

Replacing monotony with music

Making mornings musical.

I wanted to be a dancer.

While dancing, repetitions make sense;

There is no monotony;

In fact, boredom dies with each repetition.

But one day I wondered,

what is not dance?

Between the silencing of the alarm

and the announcements at the station,

there is dance.

The metamorphosis of places into spaces;

City’s changing silhouettes

compliment the inconsistent walks of men.

Waiting for the uneven evening to arrive;

There is beauty in its nifty gait.

Between the shutting of the files

and the whistling cookers,

there is dance.

The journey from spaces to places;

Gearing up for plain acts,

Plainness does not attract spectators –

So, forgetting movements is permitted here.

Time to steal some time from time.

Before the closing time,

the fatigued bodies must perform one last duty;

To let the pens dance on the plain stage,

To watch the strange formations,

Pyramids,

Pillars,

Pentagons.

Between the unburdening of thoughts

and the burdened bodies of mornings,

there is dance.